#with barely anything in it as most things will be transfered from one bag to the other

[albonium]

17 days worth of clothes for temperatures from 0 to 30°C 🤪

[anniebeemine]

baby fever- s.r. x fem!reader

Warnings: established relationship, unprotected p-in-v sex, praises, slight breeding kink (I tried to make it as mild as possible),

You’re not ready for a baby. 

At least that’s what you’ve been telling yourself. A baby takes time and energy that you can barely spare for yourself and your husband. Your job drags you around the country, chasing after murderous criminals. You’ve seen some of the most evil things in the world, and yet, a baby seems to immediately push the thoughts away. 

With baby Michael having been recently born, you and Spencer decided it was time to visit the family. You carried a small wrapped box for Henry. Afraid he’d feel left out with a new baby brother, you decided to bring him a new toy. Spencer carried the gift bag with a few outfits for Michael and some gift cards for his parents. 

"You okay?" Spencer asked, glancing at you with concern as you approached the front door.

You nodded, forcing a smile. "Yeah, just thinking."

Spencer gave your hand a reassuring squeeze before ringing the doorbell. Within moments, the door swung open to reveal JJ, her face lighting up at the sight of you. Despite having just had a baby, she was beaming.

"Hey! Come in, come in!" JJ ushered you inside, taking the gift bag from Spencer. "You didn’t have to bring anything, but thank you."

"We wanted to," Spencer replied, stepping inside. "How’s Michael?"

"Sleeping, thankfully," JJ said with a soft laugh. "Will’s got him in the nursery."

Henry came running into the room, his face lighting up when he saw you. He wrapped his arms around your legs in a tight hug. Hey, Henry!" you greeted, crouching down to his level. "We brought you something."

Henry’s eyes widened as you handed him the wrapped box. "For me? Really?" He tore the wrapping paper open to reveal a new toy car. “Wow! Thank you!"

You ruffled his hair, feeling a warmth spread through you at his joy. "You’re welcome, buddy."

JJ smiled, watching the interaction. "You’re going to make a great mom someday, Y/N."

You glanced at Spencer, who was looking at you with a soft expression. "Maybe," you said, your voice tinged with uncertainty. 

Spencer caught your eye for a moment, a flash of something spreading across his face before he greeted Henry. “Let’s go find some batteries,” he said, following the young boy into the kitchen. 

JJ seemed to pick up on it and changed the subject. "Come on, let’s go see Michael."

You followed JJ to the nursery, where Will was gently rocking the baby. He looked up and smiled when he saw you. "Hey, guys. Look who’s awake.” 

"Can I hold him?" you asked, stepping closer.

"Of course," Will said, carefully transferring Michael into your arms.

You cradled the tiny baby against your chest, feeling the weight and warmth of him. You gently rocked him as JJ led you back into the living room, chatting about how things had been since Michael’s arrival. You nodded and responded, but your focus was mostly on the baby in your arms.

You settled into a chair, still holding Michael, who looked up at you with wide, curious eyes. You smiled down at him, softly cooing as you held a pacifier to his lips. He latched onto it, and you felt a surge of tenderness as he began to suck contentedly.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Spencer and Henry were rummaging through a drawer for batteries. Spencer’s mind, however, was elsewhere. As he found the batteries and helped Henry place them into his new toy, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. When he finished, he excused himself, unable to resist the urge to see you again. He walked into the living room, his breath catching when he saw you holding Michael. You looked so natural, so serene, with the newborn nestled in your arms. Spencer watched as you smiled down at the baby, your expression one of pure love and gentleness.

A flash of longing spread through Spencer. He’d always wanted children of his own and he was getting there. He has a beautiful wife, a home full of empty bedrooms, and a stable-ish career. He had always known you would be an amazing mother, but seeing you with Michael made the reality of it hit home. He imagined you holding your own child, the love and care you would give, and felt a swell of emotion.

Later that night, you felt an inexplicable emptiness since handing Michael back to his parents. It was a void you couldn’t quite place, but it gnawed at you as you moved through your nighttime routine. Spencer sat on the bed, a book in his hands that he wasn’t able to focus on. Instead, he listened to the sound of you humming to yourself as you got ready for bed.

As you walked into the bedroom, Spencer closed the book, setting it on the nightstand. "Do you think we’re ready for a baby?" he asked, his voice breaking the comfortable silence.

You paused, turning to look at him. "Do you?"

Spencer shook his head, running a hand through his hair. "I’m just thinking out loud." He saw the blank expression on your face. "We’re probably not ready for one."

You swallowed. “Yeah, probably not,” you said with a breathy laugh. 

He scooted down into the bed, adjusting his pillow. “It’s kind of scary to think about.” 

You nodded, lying down beside him. "Yeah, it is. But you know, you’d be a great dad, Spence.” 

Spencer smiled softly, turning to face you. "Thanks. You’d be an amazing mom, too. But I like how things are now. Just us."

"Me too," you agreed, though a part of you couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to expand your family.

You both settled into the silence, pretending to fall asleep. But instead of drifting off, your minds wandered to the possibilities of raising children together.

You imagined mornings filled with the sounds of little feet running through the house, Spencer patiently explaining some scientific fact to a curious toddler. You saw yourself cooking breakfast while Spencer read stories to your child, his soothing voice filling the room with warmth.

Spencer’s thoughts drifted to bedtime routines, reading books and tucking in a little one, their sleepy eyes looking up at him with trust and love. He pictured teaching them to ride a bike, holding on until they found their balance, and the proud smile on your face as you watched.

You both thought about the challenges, too—late-night feedings, temper tantrums, balancing work and family. But even those scenarios brought a sense of fulfillment, knowing you would face them together.

Life resumed its usual pace, filled with work, cases, and the daily routines you and Spencer had grown accustomed to. Yet, the thoughts of starting a family lingered in the back of both your minds.

One evening, after a long day at work, you and Spencer were relaxing on the couch, a movie playing softly in the background. Spencer was flipping through a book, while you were curled up next to him, your head resting on his shoulder.

Out of nowhere, Spencer closed his book and looked at you, his expression serious. "I want a baby with you."

You blinked, caught off guard by his sudden declaration. "What?"

"I’ve been thinking about it a lot since we talked," he continued, his voice steady but filled with emotion. "I want a baby with you. I want to start a family. I don’t want to wait any longer."

You sat up, searching his eyes for any hint of hesitation. "Spence, are you sure? This is a big decision."

He nodded, reaching out to take your hand. "I’m sure. I know our lives are complicated and our jobs are demanding, but I’ve realized that I don’t want to keep putting this off. I want to share this experience with you. I want to be a dad."

Your heart swelled at his words, the sincerity and love in his eyes overwhelming you. "I want that too," you said softly, a smile spreading across your face. "I want to have a baby with you, Spencer."

You kissed him, feeling a sense of completeness and a deep love for the man you had chosen to spend your life with. You pulled away, studying the dazed look on his face. “Y’know, we could start trying soon.” 

A smirk appeared on his lips. “How soon?” 

You shrugged, wrapping your arms around his shoulder. “Like… now, soon?” 

Spencer's eyes widened slightly, and then he smiled, the excitement evident in his expression. "Now works."

“Does it?” You teased, brushing hair away from his forehead. 

You leaned in, your lips meeting his again, this time with more urgency and passion. The movie playing in the background was forgotten as you both embraced the possibility of starting a new chapter in your lives. Spencer's hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened.

Breaking away for a moment, you whispered against his lips, "I love you, Spencer."

"I love you too, more than anything," he replied, his voice filled with sincerity and affection.

You guided him up from the couch, leading him toward the bedroom, your hearts pounding with anticipation and excitement. As you led Spencer into the bedroom, the excitement and anticipation between you both were palpable. You turned to face him, your eyes meeting his, filled with love and determination. Spencer's hands gently cupped your face, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks.

"This is it," he whispered, his voice filled with emotion. "We're really doing this."

You nodded, a smile spreading across your lips. "Yes, we are.” 

Spencer leaned in, capturing your lips in a tender kiss, his hands moving to your waist as he pulled you closer. The kiss quickly deepened, filled with the promise of the future you were about to embark on. Walking over to the bed, his arms held out making sure not to run you into anything. Feeling the two of you connect to the side of the bed, he guided you to sit. His lips trailed from your lips to your neck, his hands running over your body as if he were afraid to forget what your body felt like. He pushed you back onto the bed gently, giving you a soft chuckle before climbing on top of you. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. 

You blushed, placing a hand on his cheek. “You’re just as pretty,” you whispered back. “I’m kind of nervous.” 

He smiled, unbuttoning the first button on your shirt. “Don’t be,” he said softly. “I’ve got you, my love.” 

You could feel your heart race at his words. He used one hand to undo the rest of the buttons, helping you shrug the fabric off. He peppered kisses across your chest and shoulders, one hand snaking up your back to undo your bra. You shrugged off both articles, moving your hands to help him out of his shirt. “I will never be able to say how much I love you,” he said between kisses. 

You gently pushed him off of you. He stood up, shimmying out of his slacks as you did the same with your own pants. Though you’d been naked in front of each other dozens of times, this time is different, more vulnerable. You scooted back on the bed, opening your knees for him to kneel between your thighs. 

“I need you to tell me if you get uncomfortable with anything,” he said, voice caring as he brought his hands to your knees. “I would never get over it if I do something wrong.” 

You nodded, propping yourself up. “I promise.” 

Spencer ran his hands down the outer part of your thighs. You were used to praises and tender touches, but this quiet, almost methodical way he scooted back to lie down was new. He pressed gentle kisses to the skin of your thighs, inching closer and closer to where you need him the most. He pressed a final kiss to your clit before pulling away. You bucked at the sudden contact, humming. He licked a long stripe up your folds, eyes locked with yours. 

“Spence,” you moaned, voice already hoarse. 

He gripped your hips, pulling you closer. Using what was most likely muscle memory, he began lapping at your clit, alternating between swipes and circles. Your thighs began to quiver beside his head, your fingers lacing into his hair. His fingers created little bruises on your hips from hos hard he held onto you. 

You felt your back begin to arch into him, burying his face deeper into your cunt. He pulled away with a particularly loud slurp, chin glistening as he wiped it off with his discarded shirt. 

You could do nothing but stare as he did his, his eyes going wide as he met yours. “Did I-” 

“Fuck me,” you breathed. 

At this point he had your legs wrapped around his waist, fingertips digging into your thighs from how bad he needed to feel you wrapped around him. His eyes gave you a look, asking for permission before sliding his cock into you. You gave him a slight nod and a blush rose to your cheeks. “Please,” you whimpered. 

He slid the tip of his cock between your folds collecting slick, a hiss sliding between his teeth. You could feel his cock twitch between your legs. Before you knew it, he was sliding deeper and deeper into you. Stretching you slightly as your back arched and your brain went foggy from the feeling. 

Spencer brought himself down, his forearms on either side of you. “You’re perfect for me,” he whimpered as he rolled his hips. 

You tangled the fingers on your right hand in his hair. Your left hand rested under his arm, palm on his back. You rolled your hips against his, catching your sensitive nub against his pelvis with each stroke. You screwed your eyes shut, panting against his lips. His face grew redder and redder, his nature becoming flustered at the feeling of you around him. 

His thrusts became deeper, his hips snapping against yours in an instant. Grunts, moans, and the sounds of skin slapping against skin filled the room. He was trying to keep himself from letting off too soon in fear you'd both be embarrassed. You couldn’t care less if he finished, just as long as it wasn’t wasted. 

“Spence,” you muttered. “I love you. So much.” 

“I know.” 

His hand trailed down the valley between your breasts, past your belly button and to your clit. He rubbed slow circles to match his pace. Heat split itself in your body, some riding to your cheeks and the other lowering itself to your core. He let out another whimper, like he was ready to say something. 

You guided his chin, locking eyes with him. “Talk to me, Spencer.” 

He bit his lip again. “You drive me crazy. I can never get enough of you,” he squeaked out. 

You wrapped your legs tighter around him, locking him in. “I want you to tell me what else you want to do to me. Please?”

You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the finish line, whining and writhing beneath him. He somehow moved closer to you, holding you down to the mattress. “Let me do all the work, baby.” 

“I can’t wait to make you a mommy,” he whispered into the shell of your ear. 

Your body shivered at his words, his voice husky and deep. You let yourself go, no longer able to hold on as he showered you in praises and begs to let him make you a mother. Your legs kicked out and he was quick to raise one over his shoulder, deeping the angle. You threw your head back, chanting his name between pants and moans. Your climax came quickly, placing stars in your vision as you screwed your eyes shut. Your hands roamed over his body, exhausted. 

“I want you to cum inside of me,” you begged. “I want you to, Spencer. I need you to.” 

He tilted your hips up, grinding against you. He caught your lips in a sloppy kiss. You saw the clench in his jaw loosen as he came, white strands of cum painting your insides as a warmth ran through your spine. 

The two of you laid like that for a few minutes. He let his eyes close, his head dropped to your shoulders. He let the leg that was over his shoulder drop, your foot flat against the mattress. 

“Thank you.” 

Spencer pulled back to giggle. “I should be thanking you.” He kissed your forehead before sitting up to pull out. He hissed at the feeling, lying beside you. 

You laced your fingers through his. “I can’t wait to see if it worked.” 

He agreed. “And if it didn’t, we can do this again and again.” 

You rolled over to place your head on his chest. His heartbeat echoed into your ear, the rhythmic thumping putting you to sleep.

[cryptfile]

Ꮺ˖˚₊ leeches, [ logan howlett x vampire!reader au ]

summary — logan howlett lacks of patience (and he can also be a nice little blood-bag while losing his temper). 8k+

warnings — 18+ mdni, fem!reader implied, blood kink (keep in mind you’re a vampire! not twilight but more of a true blood kind?) downright filth im sorry, dead dove do not eat, smoker!reader, endless tension, manhandling, praise kink, kind of porn without plot (LIES CAUSE IT HAS ONE THO??) my boy's into paaaaaain can't help it it's canon, age-gap at first (reader is her 20's but again, vampire), public sex (it just happened), daily reminder to wrap it before you tap it, p in v, choking, filthy mouth, pet names.

side notes — thought this could take place after days of the future past? au cause why nottttt ,,currently on ovulation season so bare with me,,, been a little mia cause i’m surviving aka going through the worst semester of my life at uni? internships are breaking my ass currently so well, here i am just existing, also, english’s not my first language and everyday i’m grateful for it, so any mistakes i’m not sorry in advance lol i’m also too lazy to correct once published,, feel free to send more logan requests since i've basically been a slut for him for a while now (i'm rotting in hell).

He could swear the mansion got ten degrees hotter when you came in.

It’s inevitable. It’s this thing you carry, the way you move — Graceful, elegant, almost compelling as the air fills the room. It’s not public knowledge that you’re not a mutant itself, yet you’re presented like one, like you have healing factors and age painfully slow, but human after all, a subtle lie, one that can harm no one.

It’s safe to say you catch his attention in the most annoying way: How couldn’t you? All you do is this weird seduction he’s appealed to, whether you’re conscious or not it’s just captivating, an invisible force that even when you ignore it is there, there waiting for the perfect moment to flood every time you happen to be in the same room.

Captivating. That’s the word.

The room becomes smaller after, the air grows thicker, and it’s almost like a ticking bomb, the way you wouldn’t even look at his face while he’s noticeable pinning after Jean Grey, the mystery that surrounds you and he cannot seem to resolve no matter how much time he puts into it.

It’s like he's the plague. You don’t really try to exchange more than just a few words, only when it's needed and you cannot avoid him any longer, and he didn’t say anything at first, keeping his distance too cause he don’t see how you’d become friends, cause after all, what he could have in common with a girl that doesn't surpass the twenty years?

But soon he's upset about it, even when he doesn't really say anything out loud, it's a spike he cannot reach under his skin. You seem to become friends with anyone but him, mutant kids in your history lessons, the rest of the team, even the damn mailman when he delivered a package — You'd say hello like it's a long time lover or so, greeting people like they mean the world to you.

He has students now that are asking for a transfer from his class to yours cause it seems you're fun to be around, more like he is, and he fucking hates it.

It's fair to say it's been getting into his mind lately. That thing you do with your hair, twisting it in your index finger on a lock as you speak, the subtle red glow in your eyes he always catches by mistake, not enough fast to stop looking at you, pretending he didn't even see in your direction at first.

Tension. Logan just happens to hate tension.

In fact. He's almost sure your problem is personal, that you might hate him enough to act like he didn't exist at all, enough to avoid him like he was not there.

That's why it's just so weird.

When he finds himself walking down the hallway to the kitchen and he smells this cherry-scented aroma that settles under his nostrils, he changes the direction he's walking to, to instead, follow the path to the person that was silently smoking outside. Hiding. Maybe, a student he'll have to scold like the old man he was turning into.

No smoking in the mansion!

However, as the night is just settling, he doesn't recognize a little mutant, but instead happens to recognize you in the middle of the gardens of the mansion, close to the maze; escaping the comfort of the inside to enjoy a self-rolled cherry tobacco he has smelled before in the air. He's a victim mostly, cause his legs move on it's own as his mouth go dry, approaching you in silence.

"What do you want?" you ask when he's halfway there. And your tone is just cold as ever, not an ounce of feeling as he contemplates your side profile, the way the tobacco sticks out of your parted lips, seated on a bench hidden between bushes and trees — "Is Scott bitching about the smell going into the mansion already?"

No. He's not. But he doesn't have enough reasons to explain exactly why he's outside if you asked, why, all of sudden, he followed the scent of cherry knowing it was you the only one who carried a colts package in the pocket of every single jacket you wore, constantly asking Storm if she could hold on to the bag of filters for you while you rolled in the worst moments.

It's distracting, to say the least.

"Yeah," he quickly says, lying cause in reality he hasn't seen the guy in the whole day, yet it sounds like something he would say. "Do you happen to have another one of those to share?"

You don't talk much, hand reaching his as you offered him from your tobacco without a single word, the same that was placed between your lips and now was on his in what seemed to be something more intimate than what he'd like to admit, the cherry taste filling his lungs as they weirdly enough, shared a cig.

"Aren't you too young to be smoking?"

You laugh, and the sound sends a shiver down his spine cause he has never heard a sound quite like it, nothing that resembles that throaty, raspy sound that came out of your lips in amusement thanks to his words. He, out of all people, has never seen you like that — "And how old you think I am?"

He seems to think about it for a second, carefully picking his next words. Logan knows that women and their age are a tricky thing, you cannot say a number that's too compromising, nor act stupid and say something that's clearly not correct — "Not a day over twenty-two."

The answer pleases you, and he just knows he's wrong, but you don't seem bothered by it, instead, you nod pretending he's right, like he just got the answer right away.

He can see why everyone's switching classes now. Cheeky bastards.

"Twenty-two is not young at all, but i'm twenty-seven though," you say, and he scoffs at the statement, seeking for any change in your heartbeat, any sign of a lie. The strange thing happens when he cannot pick any heart at all, any sign of pulse.

"You are pretty young still," he says, against his age, you’re just starting out living—. "You don't look like you are twenty-seven at all."

"Cause I age slower than the rest," it's a practiced lie. One you know from repeating the same explanation over and over again, the priced answer of why you haven't changed a single bit in the past few years and made you a mutant — "I never looked my age."

Such a fucking liar. He doesn't need any heartbeats to confirm it cause deep down you are a terrible actress, he can see it so clear, how you're calculating every answer, thinking about the correct thing to say, the normal thing to say.

"Is that your thing?" he asks, playing pretend almost as bad as you do. Tilting his head to the side as he questions you — "Age slowly?"

"I have healing powers," you explain as he tossed you the joint once again. "My saliva kinds of help healing wounds. It's pretty boring."

"Boring" Logan repeats. The word itself sounds so damn fun in your lips it's contradicting. "That doesn’t sound really boring."

There's a moment of silence after that. Where you smoke in silence taking in the taste of the cherry, and he is having a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that your lips also touched the side of the cigar he was smoking before, the plain lies you've been repeating over and over the last ten minutes.

It's almost infuriating. Makes his blood boil without question, he surely endures your treatment of silence, but being lied to? That's a whole different level.

“How old are you, kid?”

Your brows furrow in response, a clueless face. You are pulling out this show once again Logan don’t buy for a damn second. Something about the scrunch in your nose, the way you dismissed your own powers as if they weren’t enough. He knows it’s all a lie. He knows it even when he doesn’t really know you at all, when it’s the first time you’re truly speaking to him after your arrival to the mansion almost a year ago.

“How old you really are?”

You laugh at the question once again, and he just knows it, knows it when he sees you barely illuminated by the dim light of the moon, the act you always keep up, a web of tangled lies you have to be into— “Told you i'm twenty-seven already, didn't you hear?”

“Is it now?” he asks, amused by the sass, exhaling the smoke of the low-quality tobacco he doesn't understand why you're so invested in when passed it to him—. “Cause you don’t seem very convinced, it really sounds like bullshit to me.”

You're almost offended. By the look you give it's like the worst mistake he could ever make, yet you remain silent, not giving the satisfaction of an honest answer yet. Testing his patience like he did have one to begin with.

"Is that why I can’t hear your heartbeats, darlin'? Cause you age so slowly?”

The nickname scratches a part of your brain, and you hate him for it. The word rolls out of his tongue with an accent, smoking your cherry tobacco cause you happen to be nice.

“You can’t?” you’re good at faking it suddenly, at least, that's what he thinks when your brows furrow in alleged curiosity, stiffening your back, uncomfortable. “How weird.”

“Damn right it is” that's when you realize he knows you are lying. Even when you don’t talk much, even when you act all stiff and bothered when he’s close, he knows that you are fully invested in lying. In whatever twisted little lie you've planned, like it was your real life and not something you made up. “Are you going to tell me truth, then or do I have to find out? Does the professor know that you're lying?”

The smoke lingers in the air.

“How old are you?” he asks once again, demanding an honest answer this time — "Thirty? Thirty-five?"

You find his questions annoying, mostly cause he won't stop until he gets an answer, one that pleases him enough to leave you alone, the other part cause you happen to like the playful banter you two keep going, dangerously much. You don't hate attention it's clear, what you do hate it's the way he seemed to see pass the lie, to demand more even when he has no right to.

He enjoys being the one who's right though, Logan cannot help it. He's pleased to catch that look on your face who says everything but nothing at once, to have you where he wanted, almost at the edge of admitting a truth.

Is it payback because you've been stealing all of the little mutants from his class? He's jealous cause kids like being around you? It does not make much sense, but he is fully invested. Questioning all.

Even when you're outside, it seems like the air grows thicker. And Logan finds himself seeking for your breathing, cause he don't know nothing, nothing about you more than the fact you don't seem to have a heartbeat, or pulse and now, breathing.

“If you really are that eager to know, i'm a hundred and twenty-seven” the words float in the air for a while, and he's sure you're just messing with him, cause there's no way a pretty little face like yours had endured a century. “I've been alive for quite a while.”

He doesn't fully believe it first. Of course he doesn't. Logan's sure you're messing with him also, distracting him about your real age.

“And I supposed this do come from you slow aging powers” He tries to give you a point there, but it's difficult to be serious when you're just playing with him—. "How so?"

To be honest, you do have a little temper yourself, you've learned to stand up for yourself most of the time, so when you happen to notice he's teasing you, that he doesn't really believe you, you adopt this attitude of defense he notices as you shift over the wood you're seated in.

"No, it doesn't" you steal the joint from his hands to have a smoke yourself. "You really aren't as smart as I thought you were, huh?"

Do you happen to have a dead wish? His muscles tense beneath his shirt, and in contrast of his problem, you can hear it all. All the sounds his body makes when he's all bothered just by the beat of his heart, that annoying sound his bones make each time he moves.

"What are you?"

"That's it," the praising goes directly into his chest, the tone you use to tell him he's going in the right direction it feels just so right he forgets why he got mad in the first place—. "That's what you should be asking right there."

It's almost a shame having to admit he would also switch classes. That he would also go through all the paperwork himself without a second thought and that right there, is pathetic, but you're smiling at him as if you're encouraging the man to try harder, to find the answer himself, and fuck — He's old, too old, he's tired, he's in a bad mood as fucking usual, and he happens to dig a drink in the quiet of his own room, but he's pulled by something as equal as devastating as the gravity force, shoot towards you in pure need to have some answers even if he has to make you spit them.

"I find it strange, cause when you don't have a heartbeat, you aren't usually alive" Deep down he's fascinated, hazel eyes glues on your face trying to understand. He feels like he has it in the tip of his tongue waiting to leave his mouth as a catastrophic answer, but he doesn't find the right words.

"That's cause i'm not," you state it like it's something obvious. And just as he knows you're lying, this time, he knows you're telling the truth, blowing the smoke in his direction just to bother him — "Why do you think i'm teaching history after all huh?"

He hasn't seen it all, it seems.

Yeah.

He's losing it after that night.

It’s known that Logan has sleeping problems, but that night specifically he thinks about something else rather than what usually torments him, a truth he also has to keep a secret now that he's learned more about it.

See, Logan doesn't expect you to be really dead. Much less to hear what you are and have been hiding this whole time from the rest of the people in the mansion — He also learns that you feed on blood, that vampires are a common thing in the world and that he shouldn't, at least, be that surprised when he's a mutant in a world full of humans himself.

You are a folklore myth on small villages, stories in Rumania and horror character in films, so you don't blame him when as you spoke, he finally understands why you're so damn attractive, so damn seductive as you explained more about your way of living, some memories you've been keeping to yourself since being a vampire was so damn solitary, memories he listens to cause he knows what it's like, to be misunderstood, to be eternal, to be alone as well.

It makes the two of you grow closer by the next weeks. You now talked during broad daylight about random shit at first, about the war sometimes, about your condition as he refers to when people is around, eaves-dropping on what you two are talking so invested in. Friends.

Simple as that.

And it's safe to admit also that in the course of the next days, Logan Howlett is a fucking mess, and he knows it, but he won't do anything about it.

He won't flirt cause he knows you're a hell of a woman, in every good sense of the word, that he's way too damaged for a vampire even, for all kinds of people out there, and as much as he'd like to say anything, he values your attention, how you switched the attitude of acting like he didn't exist to be a friend, one that you came to share secrets with a cherry aroma glued in their skin.

It gets him insane, to the point he's no longer spending much time with Jean and people start to pick up on it as if he didn't have enough headaches already. He doesn't care. Shit you are not bothered by what people say, and to be honest, he cannot seem to care either.

At first, he's reluctant of keep on talking to you as normal as it is. He's not really invested in religious themes, but he sure admits you're a sin by all meanings, a religious experience of some kind if anyone asked him — He agrees with what he has heard also in the hallways. Innocent conversations of teens and their platonic crush on their teachers. You are pretty hot.

He's so interested in knowing more about you, about the nights you spend in Rumania, when you leave to Canada, the different lives you've lived across the years. He finds himself looking forward to share his stories too, weird enough, cause he's over two centuries himself and he just craves to talk about it with someone who also gets him in a deeper level, that weariness that fills your body when you age so long.

You got the best of immortality, and instead of feeling envious, Logan finds himself attracted to you so much like he's never been in his whole existence. Not at the point it happened with you at least.

By the end of the first month he knows your little treats. You use a lot of sunscreen, and avoid activities outside as much as you possibly can with those classic, tiny black sunglasses that hided you from the rays of the sun, always in the shadow so unapproachable; how you'd usually dismiss food offerings from anyone who's kind enough to even offer you something, and when you haven't fed well during the course of the week, you'd become the most maddening woman he'd ever met.

Maddening.

"What wrong with you, Leech?" Leech. You've been in such a bad mood lately that when he's seating next to you in another random smoking session outside, your fingers twitch, clearly pissed at the nickname after saying multiple times you don't like it.

"I'm not in the mood for plays now."

He can tell from before. When you talked to him that very morning and stared at the collar of his flannel for what it seemed a good, nice minute, he realizes the same moment that you were staring at that pulse point in his neck, where the flesh blood was pumping in his blood flow: You're hungry, as any living creature would be and at your own manner, in constant control as you fight the sense of hunger.

So instead, the mutant ask, like he always does when he’s curious about something that involves you:

"When did you last feed?"

"A couple of weeks ago."

That would explain it. You don't talk much about your meal plan, he knows the professor is in charge of all of that. You've told him about blood bags and hospitals, but he's not really aware of how constant you need to eat, how the blood supplies most of your energy, makes you stronger, gives you vitality, so Logan at first, don't really know what its like to not drink any blood in the course of two weeks.

"What happened with the blood bags from the Hospital?"

The mention of blood out loud seems to triggers you. A groan escaping your lips as you can swear you feel the taste in your mouth — "Don't know. Haven't seen a single one this week, Charles said something about next week, problems in the bank I guess."

You're clearly worked up. It's a new look he hasn't registered before, your hair is tangled in a less-composed look, and there's a slight shake in your hands as if you're going through withdrawal, deprived for what you needed the most.

"And animals?" he questions, trying to find a solution. “Can’t you eat a cat or something?”

"Like shit i'm going to feed from a fucking animal," you're almost immediately grossed out, scrunching your nose at the idea. "I can barely handle being so close to a damn human but animals? I'd rather fucking die this time for real, no waking up."

"That bad huh?" the mutant asks, taking a sip from the beer he sneaked outside, chucking lightly afterwards. "So you're a leech with elegant taste, huh? Of course you are."

"Clean blood is rare," you explain, rolling your eyes. It's inevitable. He knows you hate the nickname so much that he insists to keep on calling you that way just to get a reaction—. "Humans nowadays taste like dirt. They consume drugs among other substances, pills, food supplements, even damn vitamins, don’t get me started about blood diseases cause it gets me in a bad temper. Every single thing affects on your taste, even what you eat. It's all registered there. Clean, good blood is rare to find. Call me elegant, call me picky. It's a damn fact."

"And what about mutant blood?" he questions. And it seems like a mere phrase at first, one with no subtle tones, he’s usually curious about your nature so you don’t pay much attention as he spoke—. “You’re picky about mutants too?”

“No, i’ve never had a mutant before.” The truth is, you hate feeding from people, the act being something so intimate, so damn personal, you refrain yourself. Killing humans, picking a next victim to fed on, is considered now a treat you don't appreciate from your kind, making you steal from hospitals and any kind of blood bank before Charles offered you help. You haven't fed from a mutant, cause you avoided everyone equally, but you don't want to be rude about it. “You all smell different, but i’d be lying. Maybe yes, i’d be picky about it too, feeding is something intimate.”

It's an undeniable admission, and now that he's trying to be in your position, he would also be picky about someone's blood. Logan remains stoic cause he’s suddenly filled by the thought of something else, a glimpse of his own weird creativity he forces himself to push aside, to really suppress now that it's not the time or the moment.

“How do I smell?” It's too late to stop the words from coming out of his mouth when he asks her. And at first, is out of pure curiosity. He has never encountered a vampire in his life until you, let alone had someone talking about the subtle tastes of the blood being undead, so he doesn't want to let the opportunity slip — Of course he wants to know if an over two hundred mutant like himself would be as remotely good as a fresh, clean bag from the hospital.

"You stink like wet dog," he surely deserves it after all the times he’s been calling you a leech — "Like those cigars you tend to smoke, alcohol, and musk. It's similar as wood. That smell you got when you're in a forest and it's not raining but straight pouring."

"Is this a way of telling me i'd taste bad, peach?"

You make a mental note to let him know after you like peach way more than leech.

"If i'd found a human smelling like that, you won't be hearing from me anytime soon" you're just messing with him. A playful banter you enjoy more than ever, the distraction you needed to think in something else rather than the blood bags you craved so deeply — "Hell, i've would just walked the other way."

"So i'm taking you won't be feeding from me anytime soon."

It all takes a dark turn there. You're very aware of the tension the last month now that you talk to him in daily basis, but it’s just mere tension, nothing that ever goes beyond the limit. Logan has never said something to flirt with you despite the million chances he got, and he always remained like a friend, one that you enjoy spending time with now. Cannot be blamed when you're taken aback.

“Cat got your tongue, kiddo?” Man. You're about to whine about the name before you remember he is indeed, older than you are. Vampire or mutant.

"You want me to feed from you?"

He seems so willing when you ask. Even when you teased about his smell calling him a wet dog. He just seems so eager to let you just do it, try a mutant for the first time.

"Yeah," he dismisses it like it's not something so deep — "I doubt Charles is going to let you take a bite since you could clearly kill him, and I'm not sure the others would be pleased with the idea of you sinking your teeth in them, so yes. Me, leech."

Logan Howlett doesn't really smell bad. And you don't know why cause he has all the ingredients to fucking stink, yet, you'd call him interesting. That's what you thought when you find his pulse point again, the vein in his neck you looked earlier in the morning, thinking just as the same you were thinking now.

Of course you would feed from him. Is it a good thing to do? No, in any other circumstances you'd decline. He's your friend.

Now? You’re having a hard time.

"So I'm guessing that you're pleased with the idea, then," Real talk?, you just want to hear him say it. He doesn't talk much usually, but now that he's very vocal about what's on his mind, you have to take advantage of it—. "I'm not sure either. But I do think Storm may be interested too."

He seems content with the response, taking a long sip from his beer before adding — "Please, go and ask her so you're less annoying."

You're almost completely sure he doesn't find you annoying. You also don't care about Storm. And maybe he knows you're not going anywhere, that you're not moving.

"You really want me to bite you?"

"I dunno now, princess" he looks at you pleased now cause he got you where he wanted to, cause he managed to awake all the interest now that you're looking at him "Are you going to pull a Dracula on me?"

"No, i'm not going to suck you dry if that's what you're asking."

Logan chuckles. He's a damn masochist. It's been like that as long as he can remember. It may have to be with his healing powers cause he likes it more than usual, but the idea gets to his head soon enough, all falling so damn fast: Your breathing would be against his neck and he'd take the bite like a damn champ.

"Yeah I can handle you," he says, aroused. "You're not gonna hurt me if you take some blood. I'll be fine and you won't be a pain in the ass."

He acts so gruff about it but you hear the sound of his heartbeat already high enough to wake the entire mansion, his labored breathing since he suggested the idea himself. He digs it, strange enough. Thrives on the idea.

He's a grown man already, and he can take a little leech like yourself.

It's clear you're hungry, cause it doesn't take much for you to accept, nodding like you're defeated, like you just lost the war entirely, cause there's no many options here to take and even if it were, you are now interested in have him more than any other blood bag. In fact. To hell with the hospital.

"Okay."

It's a simple answer, and it sure works with him as you get close to him, the bench you always used to sit now seeming so small as you look around confirming you guys really are alone—. "You won't tell anyone?"

It's something stupid to ask, cause after all that time he has never said anything, keeping your secrets as if they were his own, saving you from weird questions people get sometimes as they didn't know much about you. He's clearly not going to say nothing at all.

"Are you going to stop whining for a second and just eat darlin'? Cause I might change my mind here."

He's feeling overload soon after.

You don’t need a formal invitation to lean closer to his neck.

There's no way to describe it also cause he has never seen something like that, never felt a similar sensation more than when he's fucking, the cold touch of your fingers in his chest, taunting the vein in his neck without a previous warning before leaning in even closer than before—. "Stay still" you demand, face close against his bare skin, only one goal in mind. "Don't move for a minute. Just-"

You cannot finish the sentence, and Logan can experience the sporadic pain of the bite first hand when your teeth finally sink in his neck, piercing the flesh so easily as you let the blood fill your mouth. He grunts at the sharp pain, his face contracting momentarily before it's replaced by a nice wave of pleasure, one that hits him right in the guts as he grabs you by the nape of your neck, pushing you against him, almost demanding you to be closer, to keep on taking what you want, what you've been craving for two weeks.

When did he turned into this perverted sick? Getting off by something so primal as the fact you're feasting on him.

The feeling of your lips and the clear suck you gave when feeding are sending him into a spiral, and to be honest, he didn't expect to be so devastated by you, by the way your fingers stay against his chest to prevent him from moving, pinning the mutant between the wood bench and yourself so he won’t move, won’t do anything unless you want him to,pressing on the wound to draw more blood out.

"You heal so damn fast," you complain, looking at the traces of your bite with an unpleased face as they disappeared on his skin as fast as you created them.

"Then bite me again. I don't care."

You chuckle before leaning once again, and you can feel how the air grows hotter than how it was usually, the shift on his breathing as you bite him again, pressing on the wounds once again just to suck.

And you’re hungry, it’s the whole deal. His taste differs from what you believe at first, a huge change from what humans taste like, from what you’re used to deal with in hospitals. There’s a subtle taste of alcohol yes, but it mixes good with the sweet taste of honey, the weird taste you cannot put into words. It must be a mutant thing for sure cause it’s thicker than usual, a mix of flavors that explode in your tongue.

The headache you suffered from the whole week seems to dissapear as you drink in, feeding the monster you responded to in your stomach, demanding you to make him bleed more, to satisfy yourself until you can’t have any more.

Logan, on the other hand, is really fighting against his very own war.

You’re already close enough, but he just wants you damn closer, as much as he possibly can. It’s clear that well, it hurts slightly, but he has endured much worse, means nothing when it’s the pleasure that comes with it who strikes on his body, the light sucking, the idea you’re full of his blood, that you are not on trouble as you were before thanks to him. All because of him.

He's not used to acts on his impulses, but he does it anyway.

"C'mere" he says in a strangled voice, Logan's having no trouble moving you around, grabbing you by the hips to make you straddle him, keeping you glued to his neck as he doesn't want to disturb you—. "You really are a pretty leech, huh?”

You hum against his skin, pleased at the contact, and when he realizes you’re not complaining about his actions, he let his fingers grip your tights, keeping you against him.

You can hear him making this sound, quite like a moan but not exactly when you’re licking the holes you left in his skin, he does heal fast and don’t need any of your help when you’re done, but you coat his skin with your saliva anyway just to speed up the process, cause you want to do it, looking down to him after to check if he’s pale or nearly dead. You never really know.

And Logan himself is just fine cause his fingers gather the blood under your lip when he takes the sight of you sitting in his lap as the pearly white rays of moonlight makes your skin shine, and he pushes them inside your mouth so you don't waste any drop of what it can be considered food.

"So what's the final verdict?" he asks as his hands are now grabbing your tights, there's something so intimate about the moment, so personal, hot as he presses his fingers against the flesh of your muscles, he understand what you said before—. "Do I taste like utter shit?"

"Well, i’d need another taste to have my final decision" he laughs, and he don't really laugh often so the unexpected sound sends a shiver down your spine now that you’ve heard the sound quite a while now—. "Not much, just a little."

“Have you fill then, peach” He encourages you. “I want you full so you don’t whine the rest of the week.”

You don’t have any heartbeat, but if you did, it would be ragging in your ears at his words. At the warmth he’s spreading like a disease on her body that, despite being dead and cold, you can feel more than ever.

“I like peach,” you admit, this time pressing a soft kiss before directly hurt him—. “Leech is annoying.”

He’s going to say something, tease you about it maybe but he’s interrupted by the nice feeling of what he considers are your fangs tearing his skin apart, familiarity hitting him all sudden as he moans, a rough sound that comes from the deep of his throat, hands coming down to squeeze your ass, making you gasp against his neck when you experience the aching need physically forming in his pants.

“Still,” you say, concentrated on not allowing the wounds to close. But at the lack of complaints on what he's doing, Logan’s hands kept wandering around, making you move against his now clearly stiffed cock—. “Fuck’s sake I said still.”

“Stop being a damn brat. You can eat while I move you,” he grunts annoyed, shoving you against him, the friction of his jeans against the thin fabric of your shorts is enough to keep you quiet: Feeding from a stranger and feeding from a person you’re attracted to are two different things, especially in the position you find yourself in. “You don’t have to do anything. Quit whining about it.”

In response, your fingers press against the wound, not caring if it hurts or if it bothers him, but just enough to get him to bleed more and prevent the cut from closing, lapping at the blood that gathered over his collarbone, staining his white tank before you could even avoid it.

Your fingers grab the fabric just to pull it slightly down so it won't bother you, and the deep sound his chest make when he mocks about your desperation is stuck on your brain for the next couple of minutes, indulging in his taste, shutting up the rest of the world.

A moan comes out of your lips, muffling it against his skin. You're too zoomed out to hear it, but he's on a hell of a ride too, moaning as he demands more. It's been a while since the last time you did something like that, combine the pleasure of something as primal as eating with a mundane activity like sex, so you kind of forgot how good it felt, blaming yourself from depriving from something so needed.

"Do you always get this turned on when someone bites you?"

"No" Logan answers as you finish. He's rock hard beneath you, and he lets you know it when he's controlling the movement of your hips, working you against him at a slow pace—. "See, the woman i'm trying to seduce don't usually bite me, nor make me their main dinner plate."

You whine at the friction.

He looks down to the cause of all his damn problems just to notice his pants being damped with nothing but a physical form of need, soothing the uncomfortable fabric of his blue jeans — "So wet for me already, you’re making a damn mess, do you always get this turned on when feeding?"

Cheeky bastard.

He's using your own words against you, and you cannot be less bothered as you laugh softly, licking your lips only cause you know there's dried blood in them, drowned in his smell, the honey taste that lingered in your mouth.

“No, I don’t.”

At the sight, Logan's hand grabs your jaw in a rough movement, making you look at him before making you kiss him, deepening the contact as fast as you give him the chance. His tongue is soon invading your bucal cavity as he takes control of it, slow, intense and needy, as if he was holding on so much time before giving in to his own desires.

It is something like that.

You don't need to breathe in daily basis, but there's a burning sensation in your chest of wanting, of infinite lust you've been also experiencing by yourself.

The old mutant can taste his own blood in your mouth, a metallic taste as he keeps on kissing you until your lips are pink and puffed. He has thought so much about it that now that he has the opportunity, he devours as if he's a starved man having his first meal in what seems are ages.

"You didn't tell me if I tasted bad."

You think about it for a second.

"I'm afraid you're a rare breed cause it doesn't make any sense" You don't need any help now moving, cause you're rolling your hips on top of him at your own pace, allowing him to use his hands for something else—. “You have all the ingredients to taste like shit, but it's nothing but the contrary, even better than the fucking blood bags.”

“Sounds like your going to make me your meal plan, darlin. I’m here offering you a hand and you just take everything,” — “Such a greedy little vampire.”

He doesn't seem to care though, same as before he's nothing but willing to let you take everything as much as he tries to bark about it. He's more worried about his hands now that they're sliding down your oversized shirt, tracing patterns over your stomach, his touch so hot against your usually cold temperature.

"Logan," you whine,— "Someone can see us out here."

"Now you care about that?" his hazel eyes are a shade darker when he speaks. "After you're nice and full of my blood?"

His hands are big enough to take your whole cunt, allowing his digits to roam over the fabric of your underwear, almost thanking you for using those loosened pajama shorts he has seen before that very night as he just takes the fabric and pull it to the side.

"Nobody is going to see us. It's late and everyone's sleeping, leech" he teases you, and you cannot bring yourself to care about the nickname at the feeling of his hand taunting you from over the fabric—. "If you can bite me here outside, you might as well take my cock here too."

You cannot battle against that. You're deep in whatever spell he puts you into, giving in to the attraction and the tension that now needs to be taken care of. Logan's fingers touch you in nothing but experience, cause he knows how to please after so much time alive, how much pressure he needs to apply to leave you plain dumb, pliable for him.

"D'you think I need to stretch you out before fucking you?" he asks against your neck after leaving a reasonable-sized hickey in the zone, he likes the idea of people finding out about what you've been doing with him the next morning. "Or you're a big girl and can take me all by yourself?"

He'd like to take your time with you. Thoroughly enjoy you as much as he wants to, let everyone know you're his now, that you're shuddering thanks to him only, but he's too needy for that, too deprived of you to take his time.

"I want you to use that pretty mouth of yours and talk to me," he demands, coming up to look at your face while torturing you, his index and middle finger rubbing your clit from over the underwear—. "I'm not properly touching you yet and you're losing it already, peach. C'mon, you can talk to me still."

"I can take you," you say in a strangled voice. "Please Logan, please."

It's the plea of your tone that gets him, the soft begging of an ache he can only soothe, your face while you ask for more, not aware of anything else but him.

"Please what?"

"Please just fuck me already," you ask in frustration—. "I just need you to fill me up for a damn while."

You are starting to love the sound of his laugh. The deep sound he makes when he’s really enjoying something, his voice in damn general.

"Be a good little vampire" He says in a gentle tone. Logan’s trying to be kind even when his touch is so rough. "Unbuckle my pants and take my cock out. My hands are busy now, and you can do it yourself."

He is busy indeed. Toying with your underwear being the only thing that’s keeping him from the direct contact, pushing the fabric against your hole as it works as a barrier, preventing his digits to fuck you as he’d like to. He’s busy keeping you in place, preventing you from downright melt as your hands came up to unbuckle his belt first, the sound of the metal as it moves filling the air for a couple of seconds before you put all your attention in the button of his jeans, the zipper coming down with the force you’re using.

“Yeah baby,” he praises—. “You’re doing so good, keep going.”

When you pull the fabric of his briefs down, he’s already leaking for you, pink head, slightly curved to the side, moaning, erratically how much he needs your hands on him, how you're wet and ready for his cock. You close your fist around him, stroking slowly as your hips lift up enough to position yourself on top of him.

He’s big. Damn fucking right he is, you’d expected it from before cause sometimes you swear you can see his full length in his jeans, but taking him in your hand is a struggle but itself.

“Are you going to take me yourself or do you need my help? I know you can.”

Despite his words, he does help. Grabbing the black fabric of your underwear to finally make it to the side, the tip of his dick pushing against your clit before he's the one to place it in your leaky hole, forcing himself slowly, giving you time to take him in, inch by inch.

“Good girl," he says, head rolling backwards for a brief moment as he experiences the warm sensation of your walls surrounding him, clenching against his cock as he keeps one hand on your hip, helping you as you lower yourself over him. "Let me look at you.”

His fingers grab your jaw, squeezing you as he makes you look back at him, pushing you once again as you holded a loud moan. He's stretching you at his need.

"One more time," he begs. "One more time and you got it, peach. You're almost there."

Jesus fuck. You can feel yourself getting dizzy. You've drank a lot of blood and you're now overwhelmed by this intense pleasure that formed in your lower stomach, gathering there and waiting for the perfect moment to explode—. "Fuck I-"

Logan's pampering you with kisses as a mere distraction, his lips travelling through your neck to your collarbone before you're finally seated on top of him, a muffled moan you need to shut filling the calm of the night.

"Fuck you're tight," he exhales, and he's lost in the sensation, the way your velvety walls welcome him inside. He stays still for a moment, giving you time to adjust, to make you the one who starts moving on top of him.

You can see his veins popping up. All over his chest and coming down to his shoulders and his arms, and god gracious — He smells so fucking good you’re tempted to ask if you can have a bite again.

The moment feels longer than usual, the seconds pass slowly as you stay there. Logan’s hands are just touching your skin from under your oversized t-shirt, taking in the low moans you gave him, the almost perceptible whispers as you get used to him, to his size.

He likes the intimacy of it, the bliss. Man you look so pretty in his lap when the light of the moon is stripping you all to his eyes, even if you’re fully dressed an he’s seated in a damn bench, he cannot enjoy it more, pulling you in for a needy kiss, one that is rougher than the first one and leads you to move inevitably.

His cock pushes past that nice spot inside, and the friction is enough to make you move again, rocking your hips at a slow pace for a few seconds. The sound of your moans is silenced by his demanding kisses, and now that he knows you can handle him, his grip on your hips turn more firm now, squeezing the skin there so he can control your speed, the rythm of your movements now faster than before.

“Shh, don’t whine” what he lacks of vocal usually, he pours it all in just fucking, talking you through it when he feels you’re being too loud—. “Do you want to wake the others? We can’t have them seeing you like this, all fed up and cock-drunk.”

“Let me bite you again,” you ask soon enough. And it takes a lot to do it, cause you’re doing it out of pure greed, cause you can’t have enough.

“Take whatever you want, leech, just don’t make me faint” he jokes, his panted breathing betraying him as he moans, incredibly interested in the idea—. “Want to be conscious when you cum all over my dick.”

Logan’s sure your eyes glisten in a red color as you lean over his neck. And this time is less affectionate, much less gentle as you finally bite him again, teeth piercing the flesh so easily his hips jolts against you in response of the sharp pain your fangs create, the warm sensation of his blood in contrast of your cold touch, tongue-licking all you get from him.

And fuck it feels good.

He shrudders beneath you, shaking his head just slightly at reflex of pain before continue working his way with you, placing his hand between your tights as he lets his fingers rub on your sensitive clit, just enough to make you bite on his neck harder, the lewd sounds of your cunt taking him between holded moans as you suck on his neck.

“That’s it taking me so good,” He praises — “You like that, princess? Like how you’re full of me?”

You hum against his skin. The blood coates your chin as it goes down through his chest, staining his white tank for a couple of seconds before the holes your teeth made finally closes on their own.

It’s pure ecstasy. He can feel it when you clenching around his cock, cheeks red from his blood going now through your system, his vitality, his energy.

You can feel him fucking everywhere. So when you kiss him it’s all teeth, bite and his blood.

The pleasure’s taking control of you now, and Logan’s dizzy from the blood loss, his body covered now in sweat as his words slur together, not threading any coherent thought.

“That’s it,” he says, making you bounce of his cock. “Gonna’ have you in my room then, all spread out f’me.”

His hand wrap around your neck tightly, keeping the direct contact as he chokes you. Shit. You don’t need to say a word. Logan already got you.

“James-” he’s too deep to question why you’re using that name with him. How you facade is crushing down now as you let go.

When your body trembles on top of him he’s already cumming too, the squeeze on his cock sufficent to fuck him up personally, his bruising grip on your hips shoving you as deep as he possibly can as his release hits him like a brick falling from the damn sky.

He lets you work for it, ride each second of your high, milk him dry as a white circle of his own cum mixed with your juices coated the base of his cock, his underwear now slick with your orgasm.

He’s struggling to breathe, to properly say something as you’re finally coming down from your peak, looking at him through half lidded eyes.

“Did you called me James?” he questions, and you’re a damn bad liar, cause he knows imediately you’re hidding something cause of the look on your face—. “Do we know each other? From before.”

You don’t know how to respond at first, at least, cause you cannot lie in a position like that now.

“Well uh. It’s quite a long story here.”

Before you can continue he gets up, making you wrap your legs around his hips before stsrting to walk to the mansion.

“Logan-” you say in a strangled moan yourself, still sensitive as he’s balls-deep inside you.

“It will be less than two minutes, leech” he responds gruffily,— “Need to get you into my room so I can enjoy you the rest of the night, and you can tell me all of it.”

He don’t care if he’s bloody or a damn mess as he squeezes your ass climbing up the stairs, much less if anyone see the two of you in that state.

“I want to hear all the details, Cause I have a weird feeling that this has happened before.”

You cannot find a reasonable excuse to say no as the man’s already reaching the second floor.

Logan’s fucked after that night. When he learned about all that you were before, weirdly connected to you through the decades.

It must be the bite isn’t? Shit. He’s more in sync than ever now that you’ve been feeding from him a lot the last few weeks.

Ah. You fucking leech.

my masterlist

[katerinaaqu]

Have you seen the new epic saga, it's something alright lmao

Of course I haven't seen it given that I never followed the live streaming to begin with not even in the first two sagas that I genuinely liked, much less now but a friend wanted to fill me in and since you asked and I wanted to be accurate, I tormented myself for almost 16 minutes to listen to the plot changes that I was told there would be and I am like

WHAT THE FUCK DID I HEAR?!!!!!!!!

I am sorry but again speakig purely on plot of course because honestly the music is really solid as always and the singers were amazing to transfer the emotions they wanted to transfer. Loved some of the melodies given, for example the intro of Charybdis was my favorite part I think but I am like HOW IS IT POSSIBLE THAT ALMOST ABSOLUTELY NOTHING OF THE FREAKING ODYSSEY IS IN THIS SAGA?!!!!!! Like he just kept the bare minimum again!

Sorry for the runt but yeah here goes:

"Not sorry for loving you"=> After all that backlash that song got even from the most loyal Epic fans he still kept it. I mean I admire his loyalty to his ideas but like he should have known that the song was not a good idea. I mean it was almost clear from the song's ideas that Jorge would dodge the subject of SA and that he would leave his fans guessing (smart move gotta give him that) at first given the suicide attempt Odysseus make but now it seems almost clear that he would want to dodge the subject just like he dodged the Circe thing it is just that right now he couldn't do it as blatantly because Calypso was an infamous moment of the Odyssey And of course the "I love you" Odysseus said...I said it before and I say it again it reminds me a blunt way to translate the reconsiliation of Odysseus and Calypso in the Odyssey. Okay even Odyssey was interesting in that (see my other analysis) even Homer uses the phrase "they rested by each other's side enjoying their closeness" so in one way even Homer seems to be implying that Odysseus forgives her and even tries to see it from her point of view but honestly what else could he do? Hold a grudge? A day before he would be FINALLY given the tools to make a raft? I think not. It almost felt like Odysseus felt sorry for Calyspo for one second in the Odyssey, when Calypso, a literal goddess, compared herself to his wife. It was an almost pity move on his part at that moment. Dunno what the musical wanted to do with this but this was not the way to do it! All the context of their talk and all was lost! If anything he tried to use a made-up thing, AGAIN to show some compassion for Calyspo. Calypso was already a lonely deity. That tragedy was enough for her. She didn't need any more tear-jerking stories for people to feel for her more in my opinion (kinda like whatever PJO did if I am not mistaken...either way yeah...)

"Dangerous"=> You know...at this point I am not even surprised that he made Hermes and Odysseus interract....like that would be my least of my problems. He does make Odysseus interract with all the gods under the sun in the musical even if Odysseus only interracts with is Hermes at Circe's island ONLY and Athena in the Odyssey and that after he has been through everything! Either way of course we would have Hermes there but like again with all the things we have from "video game logic" or whatever he wants to do...Hermes gives him another bag?! like I have no idea what is going on here! The only thing I would praise here is the emotional preparation for a possible reunion with Athena given how Hermes doesn't tell Odysseus who helped him so maybe he has an emotional load there.

"Charybdis"=> Okay for starters.....WHAT THE FUCK?! What is Charybdis doing AFTER Ogygia?! Not even a flashback!? (and I was wondering where the "Hermes told me" thing came from in that preview) Like where is that damn desperation of Odysseus having to face Charybdis right after he lost everyone?! Alone and hungry in the sea after a terrible storm that took away his men?! I also love it really how everyone thought originally that at least Charybdis would be accurate to the text and everyone was making their analysis and "look how fighting he is here compared to after when he wants to throw himself in the sea in Ogygia" and now it is clear that this thing came AFTER Ogygia for some reason. Like I am not even surprised anymore that some of the most iconic moments of the Odyssey were twisted. It almost seems deliberate at this point like "yeah let's change exactly the most iconic parts" that's why Circe was changed, Sirens were changed, Skylla was changed, Charybdis was changed...even the storm after the Helios island... The intro slaps no lie there but honest I have expressed my opinion on that before and got in trouble but I think that moment of desperation shouldn't be a fucking epic song. It was a man hanging for dear life from a tree! Trying his best not to die! (made also one small thing here) And like I get it, if someone sees that escape as "epic" for being so dramatic and impressive, I get it. have epic music in the background but what on earth with the lyrics? Like "destroy you"?! Really? or "bring it on!" like the last thing Odysseus wanted in the Odyssey was Charybdis to...bring it on! Lol! You may as well speak on the "I'm still fightng here" thing, I totally get it why, but to actually challenge the beast seems totally random. But then again I guess it fits more with THIS context given how he thinks he is now favored by the gods? In the Odyssey he was alone abandoned by all and everything with no hope left so I guess...

"Get in the Water"=> Like okay I have seen this in more replays than I can count from the very beginning from the demos till now. Ironically out of this whole thing it could be lowkey my favorite! Lol! Mainly because it fits the Odyssey PARTIALLY (yeah again Poseidon never wanted to kill Odysseus. That was written straight out in the freaking Odyssey! Even 1997 version that was inacurate as hell in many things did that right!). I would have loved it if this song was Poseidon having a monolog and Odysseus having his cries like "oh no!" or prayers as a second monolog. Like not actually interracting but have two parallel monologs! This trope is not used much and I wish I saw it more. Like Odysseus praying to Poseidon but Poseidon doing his thing alone and the two not having a dialog to each other. Apart from that the song was as we expected so far. Maybe the last part had me a bit iked but again I feel like it would be massively fixed if the two characters had parallel monologs and not actually interracting. I also love it how casually we have Odysseus accuse Poseidon in this saga for destroying his men while he CONSCIOUSLY killed the last of those himself.

"600 strikes"=> I'm sorry but....WHAT THE HELL DID I JUST SEE?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!??!?!?!?! Like I am sorry never felt like good music was so wasted in my entire life ever since the Siren fiasco! Like the song is amazing musically but what the hell did just happen?!?!?!?!?! For starters the underworld has a bus service apparently and all come up... I feel like Jorge uses this as a pattern at this point. When scenes like the underworld attracted so much fans and emotions from people who praised his choice to bring the ghosts and the voices up he wants to use it every time to focus on emotional load in a similar manner (like I said never followed him for real so I am not sure how much of it was planned before and how much of it was done on the way). But yeah of course we would expect the appearance especially with the hype at Love in Paradise. But excuse the fuck out of me WHAT!? Odysseus beating up Poseidon with his FUCKING TRIDENT with the power of friendship?! LOL! I have no idea what to take of this! We do know humans fought gods before (Diomedes looking at you) but ironically to my knowledge NEVER THE BIG THREE! Like you know...fucking ZEUS POSEIDON AND HADES?!? The three main pillars of the world (Heaven Earth Underworld)?! I don't think I ever loved a lyric so much (Odysseus admitting what he became from his trip) and so cringe at the same time (Fucking POSEIDON begging for mercy?! and calling him "monster" for fighting back?!" I am not sure to which to cringe first). Is this supposed to be the part where Odysseus redeems himself against Poseidon?! To dodge the fact that Tiresias DIDN'T give him instructions to break the curse?! So basically Odysseus redeems himself for what he did...by stabbing a fucking god?! Like...remember how Diomedes was cursed by the narrative for stabbing fucking Aphrodite after fucking ATHENA ordered him to?! Yeah right that works! What the hell?! And the final part was supposed to be some sort of redemption from the pattern "All I hear are screams"?! Like "how will you seel at night?" and the response "next to my wife"?! Is that supposed to be the last of the "all I hear are screams" pattern?! Is this supposed to be the ultimate "monster move" of Odysseus or something?! And of course we had to have an encore from the previous bag of winds scene as well like yeah once more the god Poseidon the fucking literal god of seas and land inhabited by humans, the guy who has the epithet Προσκλύστιος (Prosklystios)= the one who strikes against (to imply the waves) was taken down by a bag of winds?! I mean yeah makes total sense!

You know...it almost feels like Jorge read my fanfiction with his men supporting him against the Trojans! Looooool just kidding I just am too shook by the random things that come out of that magic hat! Like yeah Odysseus swimming, literally SWIMMING for two days in a fucking storm to reach Scheria was not epic enough apparently...we needed some sort of final boss god fight here...like Hades game or something like yeah...what's next?! Odysseus will shoot fucking ZEUS with his bow with the blessings of Athena to get even in thenext saga?!

Also of course we have sped up plot again because screw the Phaeaceans, the very reason Odysseus even TELLS HIS STORY! The one we could have his redemption, his cry and the move of compassion from them (not to mention it makes so much more sense than someone traveling on a freaking RAFT from Calyspo's island all the way to Ithaca since the Phaeaces gave him a ship and all) unless they somehow pop up later which I doubt... I also heard that the storm or whatever is signifying Penelope the coming home of her husband? Not sure again not following but yeah

To conclude as always music-wise really solid work very good harmonies and by n large very good intros

Plot wise

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!?!?!?!?!?!?

Again I deeply apologize on the Epic fans out there and even to the creator himself if I sound harsh! I know but still...I just cannot anymore...the plot is like killing me!

and these are my PERSONAL OPINIONS! If you love it good for you guys! I just had enough of it really. Is it impressive? HELL YEAH is it creative ABSOLUTELY!! is it good? To me absolutely not! Honest never expected to say that but I think the "Get in the Water" is the song that makes the most sense out of it.

PS: I am sure the animators did a FANTASTIC JOB in their work too! And I believe I will see impressive stuff from now on! The same good job as the singers did!

[boldlyvoid]

Waiting Rooms

Aaron Hotchner x Fem Reader

Summary: JJ goes into labour with her second baby, on Christmas Eve. Aaron and Emily are the only two still in town, they rush to the hospital to support her where Aaron meets a lovely woman who's friend is also giving birth that same night.

Warnings: Pregnant JJ, mentions of throwing up, Meet Cutes, Love at First Sight | Canon rewrite: Haley doesn't die, JJ doesn't lose her baby in season 6, Emily is Alive and living with Aaron for the time being

Word Count: 2.7k

After losing Emily, JJ was able to rejoin the team. And thank god because Hotch was struggling to keep things afloat without both of them. Spencer was a mess, Penelope was needier than ever and Derek... Derek had this look of vengeance in his eyes that made Aaron worried what he did to Foyet look like a walk in the park.

It was scary. 

The only one who was semi okay was Dave and that’s only because he’s better at hiding his feelings than anyone else on the team. 

JJ was doing really good pretending to be distraught while knowing the truth that their good friend was safely tucked away in Paris for the time being. But something was off about her in the first few weeks that she was back… something he couldn’t quite place until she threw up on the jet. 

He went back to pour himself a drink on their way home when he heard her in the jet washroom. He was instantly worried, he knocked on the door and asked if she was okay. She groaned, but let him in. He helped her up to her feet again, got her some tissues to wipe her mouth and stared at her with the most concern in his eyes. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing's wrong,” she can’t help but smile. “I’m pregnant…” 

He’s been so, so happy for her ever since. He keeps close to her side on cases, he keeps snacks in his bag for her and they double up in hotel rooms later on in her pregnancy just in case she needs anything in the middle of the night. She’s not one to go on early maternity leave, so starting at 27 weeks, he steps up his protectiveness and steps in when he knows she needs to go easy on herself. Wills grateful, he knows she’s in good hands with all the boys on the team and even Sever was really good at taking care of her before she transferred over to Andy Swan’s unit. 

And much to everyone's surprise, Emily is back in their life when JJ hits 7 months pregnant and she’s so pissed that she can’t be involved in the takedown due to her baby bump. She wanted revenge, she wanted to make Ian Doyle pay… but getting to sit back at the BAU with Emily made up for it. Everything goes smoothly, they get Ian in custody, and they find his son-- sure the criminals all died at the trade-off, but at least Emily was safe from here on out. 

The team is overjoyed that they get another Halloween with Emily. Another Thanksgiving, another Christmas and right as New Year's rolls around, JJ is due to bring in another member to their little family… they get two weeks off baring any emergency cases and so everyone goes their separate ways with the plan to come back right before new years to be there when JJ has her baby.  

Spencer’s gone back to Vegas with his mom, Derek goes to Chicago with his mom and sisters, and Dave ends up in Long Island with his cousins and the few aunts he has left… Haley has Jack for Christmas this year, Penelope was volunteering at the local homeless shelter to give out Turkey dinner and so that left Emily and Aaron at his house— where she’s been living since coming back, with nothing to do.

And then the phone rings right before midnight. Moments before Christmas Day click's over.  

“Hotchner?” He answers, expecting it to be a work call. 

“Hey, JJ’s water broke and we’re at the hospital. Her mom has Henry, she’s like 5 centimetres now and she really wants you and Emily here,” Will rushes out. 

“I need them!” She calls from the background. 

“We’ll be there in a few minutes,” he assures before hanging up. He quickly gets up from bed to put his pants back on and rushes out the door, down the hall, he knocks on Emily’s door. 

“What?” She answers and so he pushes the door open. She has a book in one hand and wine in the other. “Sure, come in.” 

“JJ’s water broke, she wants us there,” he says. “Come on, I’ll see you downstairs.” 

He grabs the rest of his things while she hurries to get back into something appropriate for waiting in a hospital for god knows how long. But they were going to be there the whole time. They were last time, they would be this time and then again if she ever has a 3rd. Or 4th… but he doesn’t see that happening. 

The drive over is nice, the roads are clear and it doesn’t look like it’ll snow again anytime soon. Emily’s quiet, bouncing her knee and picking at her fingers. She’s not good with other people being in pain, especially not the people she loves… she’s the first one in the room when they get there. She kisses JJ on the head and asks if she needs anything and JJ just smiles up at her. 

“They gave me the good shit,” she holds up her hand with an IV in it. “I’m great.” 

“You look good,” Aaron gives her a smile. He loves her like a daughter, he’s so proud of her and she does look amazing for a woman going through the worst pain imaginable. 

Just before she can reply, a nurse shows up in the doorway, “I’m so sorry, but it’s after visiting hours which means we can only allow 2 family members in the room at a time…” 

“I’ll go,” Aaron offers, knowing how much time with Emily would mean to JJ. “I’ll be in the waiting room.” 

“Okay,” JJ gives him a smile. “Thank you for coming, Aaron.” 

“Anytime,” he smiles right back before heading out with a wave. 

The waiting room is pretty empty, seeing as it is just after midnight on Christmas Day. Most people plan to have a baby around Christmas, avoiding it like the plague. JJ wasn’t due till New Year's, but, she has a habit of going into labour early. He sits alone in one of the pink pleather seats, there’s magazines on a rack in the corner and the news quietly on the TV screwed into the wall in the top right corner of the room. The chair he picked is perfect for watching the TV, however depressing the reports are, it keeps him company for the time being. 

Another woman walks out into the waiting room 10 minutes later with a similar disappointed look on her face. “You get kicked out for not being family, too?” She asks him. 

He nods, “I did. But it’s okay.” 

“Can I sit beside you?” She asks and actually starts to sit well before he can nod. “Do you know what your friends are having?” 

“Uh, no,” he lies. Keeping their privacy. “We just hope it’s healthy.” 

“Same… but Cassy— my co-worker, she’s having a girl,” she explains. “Sorry, uh, I’m Y/N,” she sticks her hand out to shake his and make his acquaintance. 

“Aaron,” he smiles back. “Was your friend due today?” 

She nods, “Yeah, actually she was. We didn’t expect her to go in today because this is her first, sometimes they take a little longer but then her contractions started getting really bad a few hours ago.” 

“This is my friend's second,” he shares. Finding it easy to open up to her. She’s nice, she doesn’t have a threatening bone in her body. And her smile is beautiful. “She actually went early both times.” 

“Wow, lucky,” she laughs. “I really hope if I have a baby one day that it’s easy and quick…” 

“You don’t have any kids?” 

She shakes her head. “No, I don't even have a boyfriend… sorry, you didn’t need to know that.” 

“It’s okay,” he smiles. “I uh, I have a son. He just turned 6, and he’s with his mom this Christmas.” 

“Do you guys go back and forth?” 

He nods, “It’s easier on him this way.” 

“I bet,” she nods along, staring off at the floor, awkwardly losing the conversation there. 

They’re silent for a few minutes and then he looks around to see where the vending machines are. “Are you hungry?” 

“A little… but I used my cash on the parking pass,” she shares, lips pressed together, she’s not going to ask for food and she looks like she doesn’t want him to offer either. 

“I’ll be right back, save my seat for me?” 

“Okay,” she gives him another smile and he feels like blushing. She’s so pretty… 

He gets a coffee from one machine and a bunch of snacks from the other, including a bottle of water and if she wants his coffee, he’ll just go back and get a second. He brings back his haul and places them on the little coffee table in front of their chairs, “Merry Christmas.” 

She laughs again, “You didn’t have to do this?” 

“We’re going to be here for a while, might as well eat up,” he shrugs, he really doesn’t mind. “Did you want coffee?” 

She shakes her head, “No, I’m okay but thank you.” 

“Take whatever you want,” he points to his collection of things. “There’s chips, candy, chocolate… they also had some egg salad sandwiches in there, if you prefer one of them?” 

“No, no, it’s okay,” she assures him. “Thank you, I’ll take some chips… but first, I’m going to see if a nurse has a remote for the TV, the news is so sad and boring lately.” 

“Oh, thank you. I get enough of this stuff at work,” he sighs with a shake of his head. 

She disappears then, over to the nurses station and comes back with a remote inside a plastic bag. “What do you want to watch?” 

“Anything is fine with me,” he assures. 

“Okay,” she starts to flip through the channels. “What do you do at work?” 

“I’m… I’m an FBI agent,” he tells her the truth. Feeling safe enough with her to be honest. 

“Oh wow,” she’s impressed. “So is that why you didn’t tell me about what your friend is having?” 

“What?” 

“I teach kids, I can tell when someone is lying to me,” she explains with a smile. “Your voice went up a bit, you looked away from me… you know what she’s having.” 

“I do. We’ve seen a few cases of people trying to hurt us specifically, I’m always weary to talk about my kid, her kids, any kids really because it shows people we have weak spots.” 

“I feel you… I have to watch 23 kids for 8 hours a day and keep them all safe while school shootings are on the rise,” she explains. 

“We don’t deal with a lot of those… but I see kidnappings often. At least 1 a month. It’s terrifying not being able to be with my son all day every day, but knowing there are teachers like you out there means a lot,” he gives her a smile. 

“I would do anything for my kids,” she nods, the most genuine smile on her face as she stares into his eyes. “And I’m glad there are people like you out there who would be able to get the guy who puts me in a position to do anything for them.” 

“And I get them all,” he assures her. 

“I’m sure you do,” she smirks. Liking how cocky he is. “Do you wear a uniform like cops do or?” 

“I typically wear a suit… and when I’m in the field a bulletproof vest— no suit jacket though.” 

“Ah,” she likes the sound of that, looking him up and down. “And does your son have a mother?” 

“He does… she’s with someone else, they’re all together at their new house right now,” he explains. “Scott is actually asking her to marry him tomorrow— well, today technically.” 

“How weird is that for you?” 

“Not really weird, I like him. He’s nice,” Aaron shrugs. “And he’s good with my son so I’m glad he has another father figure who’s home more than I am.” 

“Your son sounds very lucky,” she smiles. “You clearly love him so much.” 

“I really do,” he smiles right back. Something about her makes him so happy, the way she compliments him how she looks at him and how easy it is to just talk to her. “Are you doing anything tomorrow?” 

She shakes her head, “Nope… don’t know when I’ll be leaving here though and I do need some sleep.” 

“Yeah, same,” he forgot how long labour takes. “What about on New Year's?” 

“I’m free,” she assures, leaning more into his space. “Are you asking me out, agent?” 

“I am,” he nods, staring down at her lips and then back to her eyes. “You’re so nice and pretty… I’d like to get to know you more.” 

“I’d like to—

“Aaron,” a voice calls out. Emily’s voice. “We have another niece.” 

He’s quick to pull away and stand up, “already?” 

She nods, “JJ is good at what she does… who’s this?” 

“Oh, hi,” she stands up and puts her hand out to his friend. “I’m Y/N.” 

“Emily,” she smiles. “Nice to meet you…” 

“my friend is also having a baby tonight,” she awkwardly smiles. “But go, go meet this little girl. I’ll talk to you later?” 

“Yeah,” he nods, “I’ll come back out and see you before I leave?” 

“sounds good.” 

Emily walks him down the hall and stops at the door, “only 2 people are allowed in there at a time… I can go keep your friend company?” 

“Don’t… don’t be weird. I like her, she’s sweet,” he whispers. “I don’t get to meet nice, normal women often, let me have this.” 

“You can have her, I’ll go to Penelope’s,” she teases and he swats her arm. “Hey, okay, go in. I’ll wait out here.” 

—

Penelope is the next one to show up, Will and Aaron go out for some bad coffee, giving the girls some time to talk and Y/N’s nowhere to be seen out in the waiting room. Her friend must’ve had her baby… and he never had the chance to get her number. 

Visiting hours start again in a little while, meaning that they’ll all be allowed in her room soon and maybe, just maybe, he can have a peak into the other rooms to see her? 

Before he knows it, JJ goes for a nap, Penelope and Emily head out to get some food and Will sits beside his wife with his hand over hers. A nurse is coming in to take the baby for tests and monitoring and Will lets Aaron accompany her wherever she goes. She doesn’t have a name yet, she’s just baby girl LaMontagne and she’s the cutest. 

He waits outside the glass windows, watching all the nurses attend to all the babies wrapped up in their blue and pink blankets. He’s staring at them with so much awe and happiness, he doesn’t notice someone coming up beside him until she’s bumping shoulders with him. 

“hey there…” 

“Hi,” he beams a smile at her. “Did she have the baby?” 

She nods, “Yeah, she’s right there,” she points at the cot beside JJ’s daughter. 

“My friend's is to the right of her,” he coos. “Isn’t she beautiful?” 

“She is,” Y/N swoons. “God, now I want one even more.” 

“You’d be a good mom,” he whispers. “I can tell.” 

“Cause you’re a good dad or a good agent?” She teases. 

“A bit of both… Do you still want to go out sometime?” 

“I would,” she can’t believe it. She looks up at him in awe, “do you want my number?” 

“I would love your number,” he says as he pulls out his phone and hands it to her. “I don’t go back to work until the 3rd, intense cases permitting… so I was thinking maybe we could go to dinner? Maybe take a walk around and see the lights and fireworks at midnight?” 

“I’d really like that,” she swoons as she hands his phone back to him. “Even if we just ordered in and watched TV, I’d have fun with you.” 

“You know, out of all my times in waiting rooms, this has to be my favourite,” he teases. “I’m so glad I met you.” 

“Me too… and if it all works out, we have two little girls to thank for this,” she points at the two babies side by side, peaceful as ever. 

“That we do.” 

General Taglist 

@ncsls0515 @stevesmunsons @reidsbookclub @sweetyyhippyy @manuosorioh @mrs-dr-reid @k-k0129 @squishyturtle @katsukis1wife @buckleyhans @mrs-ssa-hotch

[oddballwriter]

Handle with Care

Summary: Jake is overtaken with a sense of nervousness with carrying his child for the first time, seeing her as fragile and so easy to hurt. But after a year, he's very comfortable with handling her, in his own 'Jake-like" way.  

Warnings: Jake being scared to hold his newborn child. Jake also dad-handling your daughter. Reader is implied to have given birth but their gender and pronouns are never actually said.  

Author’s Snip: I got inspired to do this by seeing a video of a dad holding his newborn child gently and then a jump cut where the baby is a bit older and the dad holding them by their overalls. I saw that and thought " That's so Jake".

Notes: The ending kinda sucks ngl 

I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request.

He wasn't avoiding it. Not really. How could Jake ever want to avoid holding the little life you and the three of them made together? But he was nervous. Really nervous.

How could he not? Jake was usually the one doing the dirty work, with stabbing, breaking, and carrying things around. He has strength and he uses it for destroying things most of the time. This was different though. Now he had to handle something, someone, with care. Abigail. Legally, Abigail L/N-Spector, but technically also Abigail L/N-Spector-Lockley-Grant.

She's barely a day old. She's small, only seven pounds and twelve ounces. Her eyes peep open occasionally but according to the baby books that Steven's been reading in preparation, she can't see a thing and only knows she's safely cradled by you via smell. She's spent so long in such a small space that she's still all balled up and doesn't know what to do with all the free space she has in the world. She's barely made a sound except for her crying from being born, the doctor even commenting "Strong pair of lungs on this one.". Hell, she's even still a little bit pink.

Abi is completely defenseless. A precious little stranger to this world.

"I know you're a bit scared, Jake," you said quietly as you looked towards him, "Marc was too." you assure him. Jake sighs, "I just don't want to hurt her. She's so fragile. What if I hold her wrong?" he worries.

"Marc said all of that too. You're not going to hurt her, I promise." you explain, "Just come sit right here." you suggest gesturing to the spot next to your legs on the hospital bed with your head. Jake does so but he gets to it reluctantly, looking between you and Abi a few times. "I'll show you how to hold her," you mutter as you move forward to make the transfer.

Jake moves his arms into positions that mimic a cradling hold. He tenses upon feeling the weight of the newborn being settled into his arms. A measly seven pounds has never felt heavier in his entire life. You move his hands around a bit so that he supports all of the right places and avoids anything like a soft spot. "Just relax." you say gently.

You pull away smiling. "There's daddy number three, Abi." you say caressing the newborn's head. She squirms a bit in Jake's arms as she tries to get comfortable. Abi scrunches up her face a little, possibly about to fuss but ultimately just settles back into the neutral and calm state she was before, letting Jake release a breath he didn't realize he's been holding.

"Hi," Jake whispers to your baby, moving his hand a bit to touch her little cheek, Abi moving her head towards it to gum and suckle at his skin out of instinct. "You're so small." he mutters to himself, "I'm pretty sure you're the only thing that I'm going to treat like glass." he chuckles.

🌙🌙🌙

A high-pitched squeal erupts through the house. The sound you know means that Abi, now a one-year-old, was having fun doing... something. What you didn't expect was to see Jake coming into your shared bedroom carrying Abi by the back of her little over-alls. He was almost carrying her like a grocery bag. You worried about if it was maybe hurting her but she looked well-suspended and was smiling wide as ever.

Jake, gently, placed Abi on the bed next to you and sat on his side so that she was now between the two of you.

"They are just screaming at you right now, aren't they?" you ask, referring to Marc and Steven. "Oh, they're tearing me a new one." Jake says. "It's not like I throw her around. She likes it anyways." Jake adds.

"What happened to treating her like glass?" you reference. "She's still made of glass. But she's more durable now." Jake says, "Again. I'm still careful and I don't treat her like a ragdoll either.".

[crowleysgirl67]

Unexpected

Author: @crowleysgirl67

Word Count: 3250

Parings/Characters: BAU Team, Reader x Hotch, Alexandra (OFC), Jack Hotchner,  

Warnings: Show warnings, nondescript case, idk 

A/N: Song is Older by isabel larosa the sped up version. 

A woman jogging alone on a forest jogging path in the early morning mist. She trips on what she assumes is a tree root. After hitting the ground she rolls onto her side to see what she has tripped over. A scream echoes through the forest as the woman sees she has tripped over a body barely off the jogging path. The feet of the dead woman sticking out on the path just enough to trip the jogger. 

***

“Locals have asked for our help with this case.” JJ said handing Spencer his paper file as the rest of you use the tablets to look at information. “Three young women ranging from eighteen to twenty-four have been murdered in the last six months. All have had their vocal cords cut from their bodies.”

“The latest victim Kendra Montgomery was found early yesterday morning by a jogger.” Garcia adds.

“Two of the three girls were white while the other was of Asian descent. So that kinda rules out a preferential reason. Or at least race isn’t a determining factor of how the victims are picked.” you state looking through the pictures. 

“We can deliberate on the plane. Wheels up in twenty.” Hotch stands up.

Everyone disperses to grab their bags, leaving you and Hotch as the last ones to leave the room. Your heels click on the floor as you go around putting chairs back into place. You could feel him watching you as you did. Hotch and you had met about a year and a half earlier and had a one-night stand. Which was highly unusual for him but enough alcohol and loneliness can influence anyone. You hadn’t spoken to him since, until you transferred into his unit. He was shocked, but you both agreed to be professional. 

“See you on the plane.” you said softly. He nodded in response and left to presumably go call his son. 

“The time between his kills is getting shorter. Kills victim one, Andrea Kemp, six months ago. Then victim two, Mei Vuong, last month. Less than a full month between Mei and Kendra.” Emily points out. 

“Doesn’t seem like he’s concerned with forensics. Plenty of fibers and things found with the bodies.” you say, looking over the forensic reports.

“No hits in any database so he’s not offended before or hasn’t been caught offending.” Reid muses.

“Let’s interview the families. Reid go over the girls records to see if you find anything. Dave, Morgan start with the crime scene and then go see Andreas' family. Prentiss, JJ take Meis' family. (Y/N) with me we’ll see the most recent victim, Kendras family.” Hotch divvies out what needs to be done.  

***

“How sure are we that Nathan Benson is going to strike again so soon?” you ask

“He’s devolving. He needs to.” Reid replies

“So why are we waiting for him to take an innocent person? Why not give him what he wants?” you question.

“He already knows Prentiss and I are FBI.” JJ says.

“He doesn’t know me. I was never in the bar or did any interviews with him. I can go in, get his attention.” 

“Have you done undercover before?” Morgan asks.

“Guys I get I’m new and you're skeptical but I got this.” you pulled out a bag and touched up your makeup, putting on some bright red lipstick. You took your hair out of the ponytail and messed it up to give it a stressed sex look. Tugging  your skirt up to mid thigh, you set your badge and gun down. “There’s an alley about a block away. I can walk by that, it’s the perfect place for him to want to kill. One of you can hide out there.” you said as you un tucked your blouse and tied it up exposing your midriff. You popped a button at the top exposing more cleavage. “Who hasn’t had interactions with him beside me?”

“I haven’t and neither has Hotch.” Morgan answers. 

“Ok. Give it five and one of you can follow me in. And for heaven's sake if it’s you Hotch lose the ‘I’m an agent look’ yeah? Just a regular guy in a bar.” you hopped out the back of the surveillance van. 

Morgan stifled a snicker, “We’ll see you in five.” 

You gave a thumbs up and sauntered on in. You walked up to the bar and leaned over whispering in the bartender's ear to give you coke on the rocks, before surveying the establishment. You spotted Nathan back by the door to the kitchen. You made yourself comfy on the stool closest to him before striking up a conversation. 

“I hear you have a nice karaoke thing going on here.” you smiled as you accepted the drink from the bartender. “Is that like a local thing? Or can out of towners join.” you purr, sipping your drink and batting your lashes at him.

“Anyone can join.” he smiled charmingly. “You like to sing?”

“Been doing it since I was little. How’s the selection?”

“Why don’t I show you?” he pushed away from the wall and showed you the music available. 

You debated music as you flirted with him before finally choosing a song. 

You went up to the mic as the music began, “Think I need someone older. Just a little bit colder. Takes the weight off your shoulders. Think I need someone older.”

You made eye contact with Hotch as he walked in. “Baby, am I your little secret? 18, I'm old enough to keep it.”   

You finished the song, avoiding looking at Hotch again. He’d shed his suit coat and tie and had his sleeve rolled up to his elbows. Looking at him again would just prove to be a distraction. 

‘Focus (Y/N). Now is not the time to be thinking about your baby daddy boss.’ you thought as you shifted your thoughts back to the task at hand.  

You pretended to be more and more intoxicated as the night wore on before ‘stumbling’ out of the bar and headed in the direction of the alley. You teetered about as you walked, to keep up the appearance of being intoxicated. When you got to the alley you stopped and bent down putting your hands on your thighs, appearing as if you were about to vomit. 

Nathan grabbed you then and dragged you into the alley. He brandished a knife and got a swipe in before you kicked him back and Morgan jumped from the shadows gun drawn.

“Drop it Nathan. It’s over.” he ordered as Hotch rounded the corner with the others.

“(Y/N) are you alright?” Hotch glanced at you holding your bloodied arm.

“Tis’ but a flesh wound. I’ll be fine.” you waved him off as you walked out of the alley. Your arm was the least of your concerns. You leaked through your padding and you didn’t need the embarrassment nor questions about your now wet shirt. It’d been a few hours since you’d been able to slip away to pump and you really should have done it sooner, but with everything going on it’d slipped your mind. 

You made it back to the cars and grabbed your bag. Hopefully you could manage to cover up at least until you could get a moment to fix the issue. 

“(Y/N).” JJs soft voice and hand on your shoulder startled you. You hadn’t heard her approach as you grabbed a sweater from your bag. 

“Geez JJ.” you pulled the sweater to your chest.

“How old is your baby?” she asks, getting straight to the point.

Well so much for getting away unseen. “She’s six months old.” you replied softly to avoid being overheard. 

“Do what ya gotta. I’ll cover for you.” she smiled softly but you knew she’d be asking you about it more later.

“Thank you, I just need ten minutes.” you climbed in the back of the SVU. JJ shut the door and stood outside it waiting. 

“Where’s (Y/N)? The medics are here. I want her to get checked out.” Hotch asked, approaching the car. 

“She’ll be out in a minute. She’s changing her shirt.” JJ answered. 

Luckily you were just finished pumping. You put everything away quickly and tossed on the clean sweater leaving your hurt arm exposed for easy access, and climbed out of the car. You gave JJs shoulder a gentle squeeze in thanks.

Hotch escorted you over to the medics. “You’re lucky it wasn't worse.”

“I know. But it’s not like I did this alone. You guys were backing me up.” you winced at the alcohol put on the wound to clean it as the medic patched you up. A couple of steri strips and a bandage was all it took. “See? I didn’t even need stitches.”

“Still.” he narrowed his eyes. “I don’t like it.” he said so softly you almost missed it.

“Aaron..” you trailed off as Rossi came over.

“Good job kid. How ya feeling?” he asked 

“Stings a little but I’m alright.” you tuck your newly bandaged arm into the sleeve of your sweater.

Everyone went back to the hotel to gather things and meet on the plane. JJ met you by your room with her bag. 

“Why didn’t you tell us you had a kid?” she asked, following you in as you started packing.

“It’s in my file.” you shrug. 

“Only Hotch and Rossi can read those.” 

“Oh well that’s good to know.” you finish packing. 

“What's her name?”

“Alexandra.” you smiled softly and showed JJ some pictures on your phone.

“She’s adorable.” JJ smiles.

“Thanks. She’s getting so big.” 

“If you don’t mind me asking; where’s her dad?”

“He doesn’t know about her. She was a result of a drunken night.” you followed her out of the room. 

“Oh. Well if you have a name we could always help you find him.” She offered.

“That’s sweet of you to offer but I’ll tell him.” 

“You know who he is?” she asked, surprised.

“I’ve seen him again recently.”

“Seen who?” Reid asks as you meet most of the others in the lobby.

‘Well, might as well drop this bombshell’ you thought as you didn’t see Hotch. “My daughters father.”

“You have a kid?” Morgan asked.

“Why is that surprising to everyone?” you chuckle “Do I not look old enough for a kid or somethin?”

“Just you don’t talk about having a kid.” Emily pipes in.

“Hotch doesn’t talk about his kid much either.” you point out.

“That’s different, at least we know about Jack. You’ve never mentioned your kid before.”

“Touche.” you concede to her point. 

“So tell us about her.” Morgan encouraged.

“Alexandra is six months old. Full head of black curls.” you smiled and pulled her pictures up to show the rest of them. You let them pass your phone around to look at her pictures.

“Wow you weren’t kidding about that head of hair.” Morgan chuckled. 

“Look at those big beautiful brown eyes.” Emily gushed. 

You smiled, it was cute watching them fawn over her pictures.

“What’s going on over here?” Rossi asked as he approached, with Hotch.

“(Y/N) is showing off pictures of her daughter, Alexandra.” Emily passed him the phone.

You avoided looking back, you could feel Aarons stare burning a hole in the back of your head.

“Cute kid.” Rossi chuckled while showing Hotch. “How old?”

“She's six months old.” you replied, finally turning to face them. You watched Hotch take the phone for a better look. He was keeping a neutral face but you could tell he was calculating her age and factoring in your encounter. The phone shrilled in his hand and he gave it back. 

“Pardon me.” you took it and answered walking a few paces off.    

The others chatted amongst themselves, but Dave looked between the two of you. “You wanna tell me what that’s about?” he asked softly, careful to not be heard by the others.

“I’ll tell you later.” Hotch replied.

**

Hotch cornered you by your car after arriving back in DC. “We need to talk.”

“Great, get in the car. You can talk while I drive.” you tossed your bag in the back seat of your car. “Alex has a fever and I need to get home.”

His brow furrowed, “Fine. But I’m driving. Give me your keys.”

At this point you were too tired and stressed to argue so you tossed him your keys. He helped you into the passenger side before climbing in himself. “Directions?” 

You gave him the way to your house and sat back waiting for his barrage of questions.

“Is she mine?” he asked after several minutes in silence. 

“Yes. You were the first person I’ve slept with in awhile. I didn’t sleep with anyone after either so she’s definitely yours. We can get a DNA test if you want.”

He glanced over, “I believe you.”

Nothing else was said as he pulled into your drive. Danika, your nanny, was waiting on the porch with a screaming Alex. You hopped out of the car before he had it in park and jogged up the steps. 

“Danika, how long has she been screaming like this?” you took Alex from her.

“About ten minutes Miss. Her fever is down to 99.3 from the 100.5 it was earlier. I gave her a dose of tylenol about 4 hours ago. I was gonna give her another but I wanted to wait for you.” she replied.

“Ok. Thank you. I've got it from here. I’ll see you in the morning.” you rocked Alex. “It’s ok baby. Mamas here.” you soothed her and took her inside Hotch on your heels.

“May I?” he asked. 

“Of course She’s your daughter too.” You passed her to him and went to get her some medicine. When you got back she wasn’t screaming. She had stopped and gone down to a small fuss. “I’ve got her meds.” you held them up.

He looked up, “See? Mamas got the feel good stuff. You’re ok.” 

You tried to ignore the feeling running through you at him calling you mama, and walked over. “Do you want to give it to her?”

“Sure.” he smiled and took the meds from you. He gave her the meds as you watched him with her. He was so soft and gentle, it was a sweet surprise. Complete contrast to his usual behavior. 

“What’s her full name?” he asks as he rocks her.

“Alexandra Haley Hotchner. I did remember your name.” you said softly. 

He swallowed and looked back down at Alex. “Why did you choose Haley as her middle name?”

“A feeling I guess. I can’t really describe it. The name just kept floating around in my head for weeks.”

“Hailey was my wifes name. Jack's mother.” he said softly. 

“I’m sorry Aaron. She’s young enough, we can always change it if it hurts too much.” 

“No. No, it's perfect.” he smiled as she held his finger.  

“I guess it was meant to be then.” you smiled softly.

He stayed up with you talking about Alex. How you were going to coparent. How to explain this to everyone and how to introduce Jack to Alex. It was really late by the time you finished. 

“Do you want to spend the night? It’s late and we took my car here.”

“That’d be great. Thank you. I’ll let Jess know I’ll be home later.”

You showed him to the guest room before taking Alex and putting her in her nursery. You checked her temperature, which thankfully had gone down again. After making sure the baby monitor was on you left the room. You checked on Aaron one more time before going to bed. 

**

It took a few weeks but you eventually introduced Jack to Alex. You’d be meeting Aaron at his house so it would be comfortable for Jack. 

“Does this mean you’re gonna get married?” Jack asked Hotch as he waited by the window.

“Uh.. no bud. (Y/N) and I aren’t going to get married.” he answered. He wasn’t about to explain the complicatedness of this whole situation to a child. Jack was too young to understand. 

“They’re here!” Jack shouts excitedly. 

“Alright. Remember your sister is still a baby and so you need to be gentle and not so loud ok?”

“I know dad.” Jack hops down from the couch by the window.

He chuckled as he opened the door to greet you. “Hey (Y/N) come on in.”

“Hey.” you smiled and stepped inside. 

“(Y/N) this is Jack. Jack this is (Y/N).”

You passed Alex to Hotch and knelt down to greet Jack. “Hi Jack.” you held out your hand. 

Jack glanced up at his dad, who gave him a slight nod. He shook your hand, “Hi.”

“You’ve got a good handshake there bud. Did your dad teach you?”

Jack nods enthusiastically and you smile. “Are you ready to meet Alex?”

“Yes!” 

“Well go on then.” you nod to Aaron who's gone and sat on the couch with her. 

He ran over and stood in front of them. You smiled watching Aaron introduce them. Alex cooed and squirmed in his arms as Jack giggled. 

Over the next few weeks you spent a lot of time with Aaron and Jack letting them get to spend time with Alex. 

“(Y/N)?” Jack looked up at you from the floor where he was playing by Alex.

“Yeah bud?” you looked up from your book. 

“If Alex is my sister, does that make you my new mommy?” 

“Come here bud.” you put your book down and picked him up and set him on the couch. “Your mommy will always be your mommy. Just like I will always be Alex’s mommy. I am not here to replace her. I’m not your new mommy but I would like to be your friend.”

“Do you want to be my mommy? You can marry daddy.” he looked up at you.

“Oh sweetheart.” your heart ached for him. “Your daddy and I aren’t getting married. We aren’t even dating.”

“Do you want to date my daddy?” 

“I like your dad very much. Sometimes adult stuff is complicated. You don’t need to worry about those things, ok?”

“Ok.” he nodded and hopped back off the couch to continue playing. 

You racked a hand through your hair, and turned when you heard a sound. Aaron was leaning in the doorway, coffee mug in hand. You got up and went over to him. 

“Are you alright?” 

He ignored the question, “So you really like me huh?” 

“You heard that? Yes I like you.” you answered. “We wouldn't have a baby if I didn't like you.”  

He’d been in the middle of a sip when you said that and choked a little on his drink. You covered your mouth to stifle your giggle. He had a little coffee dribble so you took the baby rag from your shoulder and dabbed the corner of his mouth to clean it up.

“I need to put this down.” he rasped and went to the kitchen, you followed, still snickering. He set the cup down and gripped the edge of the counter to compose himself. 

“What do we do now?” you asked.

He took a breath and turned to face you, “I’d like to give us a try. Jack likes you, I like you. You like me. So (Y/N) would you go on a date with me?”

You smiled, “I’d love too. We skipped that the last time.”

[ranbling]

So I have rewatched Chimney and Hen begins episodes, and I thought maybe I was just remembering the negative things that happened to Chim and Hen, but now I'm not indifferent towards Tommy, I actively dislike him (i listed everything he did in my post)

You mean to tell the best option for Buck's first male love interest was someone who was an absolute jerk to Chim and Hen? And I don't want to hear about growth (he was acting the same way with Hen that he did with Chim, I'm not seeing the growth there) and there wasn't even a real apology to any of them. You mean to tell me you believe Buck would date someone who treated his family horribly in the past?

And I get that the 118 was an old school place, but there is a difference between not doing anything against the racism and misogyny (which is not ideal, but I understand that sometimes you'll in a situation where you have to protect yourself by not getting involved) or actively taking part in it. Tommy is a white guy, he's the thing the old captain wants in a firehouse, had he just stayed silent, he would have been safe.

If they wanted to have a character who is already existing for Buck's love interest, they should have choosen Casey the gay firefighter from the 115 (the one is Athena's support group). Hen is probably still friends with him, he could have been the one who is with the helicopter station (and could have been explained with a line "oh I didn't even know you transferred here?" "Yeah I did and when I heard what you're planning to do for Athena I knew I have to help you")

There are my notes I took during the episode, to support what I just said

- okay Chimney comes up with his work bag and Tommy (!!) without the others seeing Chimney makes a comment about him being a delivery guy (they also knew they'll get a probie that day, so I feel like it's definitely a jab at Chim being asian)

- the "you still here?" comment? It's not the end of their shift and the tone of his voice is not like a "wow, how can you still be here and endure how we treat you?" he's just being a jerk to Chim

- Tommy and Sal just ignore Chim when he starts talking to them

- Chimney offers an olive branch to Tommy, and he's like "If I thought about you at all, I probably wouldn't [like you])

- the whole earn their respect before they want to befriend you is just bullshit. There is difference between being kinda distant with someone until you know they're actually capable of not dying, and acting like someone is nothing and looking through them

(I absolutely adore the scene where the past and present is kinda blurring together)

- Tommy thanks Chim for saving his life (which like bare minimum), but there is not like an apology for anything for being a jerk

In Chim begins Sal isn't even named and has one or two lines which are not even directed at Chim, and while the Captain is the one who makes Chim do all the chores and stay behind all the time and eat at the little table, Tommy is the one who is like vocally being a jerk

Now to Hen begins

- there the Captain is the one who starts being a jerk to Hen, but like Sal and Tommy is fast to follow

- the new your bitchiness comment - like it was so uncalled for, why would you even imply someone is a bitch when you've been working together for max. a week??

- so Chim says that even though they accept him inside the firehouse, they don't actually consider him being a part of the team enough to invite him to anything outside of work

( I love Athena's little group of Hen, the gay firefighter from 115 and the other female patrol officer)

- Chim looks so proud of Hen during her speech (i'm not gonna guess what others are feeling, but most of them look annoyed at being called out)

- Sal and Tommy also doesn't give an apology to Hen, they're just good work, shake our hands and let's forget how we treated you

[admrlthundrbolt]

Leather and Lace (Killer Croc x Chubby Reader)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Waylon Jones had never expected to be treated like a human again. That was until he met you. Now he will do anything in his power to protect you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hey guys, I'm back at it again. I've always loved the idea of 'monsters' healing through care and affection. So I put our lovely boy Killer Croc into the spot light. I hope you enjoy.

Also, the 20th fanfiction will be a bit longer, not sure how long yet. But I have big plans for it.

---------------------------------------------------------

Smiling at the security guard, you made your way through the metal detector. Only to groan as the man stopped you. “It didn't even beep Hank. I have appointments to make.”

He gave a lecherous grin as he tapped your hip with his night stick. “Well, it is within my rights to randomly pat down any visitor.”

“Coming from another department hardly constitutes me being a visitor.” Spreading your legs, you hoped this would be quick.

“Just consider yourself an exception then, nurse.” He breathed down your neck.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cursing yourself, you sped to the solitary wing. That jerk had taken his time ‘patting’ you down. If you could call his thorough inspection that. No matter how many times you reported him you got the same answer. ‘We’ll look into it miss, but it would be better if you could work it out amongst yourselves’. Yet another excuse from Arkham to not keep their guards in line.

But as you thought of the patient you were heading to visit, your smile returned. Waylon Jones, aka Killer Croc, though he seemed to be the most humane ones here. If his treatment of you had any say in the matter.

The reason you even needed to see him was a violation all its own. He was beaten pretty badly and you were the only nurse brave enough to treat him. That was fine with you though, he was by far your best patient.

His cell was in an area a bit more isolated, but so were most of Arkham's most dangerous. As you came to the entrance, your badge was waved in front of a sensor. Stepping in you noticed that the guards had chained him to the bed. It was yet another standard procedure you didn’t approve of.

“Hello Mr. Jones. How are you feeling today.”

At the sound of your voice he lifted his head and sat up. “A lot better now that your here, Chere.” The smirk that crossed his face was almost more than you could bare. Who knew a crocodile man could be so charming.

Setting your go bag next to him, you gave him a visual once over. His wounds seemed to be healing well, with no visable infection. “Ok, shirt off.”

“Doesn't dinner usually come first.” His ‘complaint' was followed with him doing as you asked. He took the minor distraction as a chance to look you over. Never in his wildest dreams would he ever have imagine you. Being a new transfer, he was surprised at your attitude towards him. Most people always had a clear gleam of fear in their eyes when looking at him. Not you though.

Headstrong and full of determination. There wasn't a person that could stop you from trying to help someone in need. Though your personality was a big plus in his book. He could also gaze at you any time and not get tired of what he was seeing. Honestly, they should lock you away for how well your plush body filled out your scrubs. Forget the naughty nurse outfit, he didn't need to put you in anything but your uniform in his fantasies.

As you ran your warm, soft hands along his back. He couldn't help the shiver that ran through him. Think that he was cold, you moved to your bag. “Get dressed, the last thing I need is my most tolerable patient getting sick on top of injured.”

His smirk softened into a smile. “Aw Chere, i didn’t know you cared that much.” Sliding his shirt on gingerly, so as not to disturb his bruises. He was shocked to see you holding a jacket in his face.

“Of course I do. Now take this, it’s ridiculous that they don’t give you more layers. Do they not understand that you tend to be more cold blooded?” You huffed and straightened your bag, before slinging it over your shoulder.

This was exactly the kind of thing you did that drove him crazy. You knew things about him that no one else took the time to learn. He watched as you left the room, making sure to bid him a goodnight.

Putting the jacket on, it was a bit snug, but not so tight that one wrong move would cause it to rip. As he relaxed in his cot only for a lovely smell to take over his senses. Shifting the collar to his nose, your scent engulfed him. You were literally the type of person to give, someone like him, the clothing off your back.

He almost didn’t mind the shit that Hank put him through. If it meant that he got more time with you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that week, you took the familiar route to Waylon's cell. A bit more pep in your step. You didn't have the usual run in with Hank, at the check security check point.

Scanning over your medical bag, you were surprised to see a guard outside of the cell you were assigned to. As you got closer, a frown settled on your face. Of course it was Hank, you couldn’t get a single shift away from this guy.

“Hank. Can I ask why your at my patient's door.” You hoped that the direct question may result in a quick conversation. Though seeing the pissed off expression on his face, you knew it wouldn't be that simple.

“I’m here to find out why that trash has contraband.” His scowl deepened as he threw a familiar jacket at you.

Scrunching your face in indignation you said. “How can a jacket be contraband. It doesn’t even have a zipper.”

He took a step closer to you. “How would you know that?”

Rolling your eyes, you shook your head in disbelief. “He was cold during a recent check up. I gave it to him so he wouldn't get sick. It’s not my fault this place doesn’t care for it’s occupants.” Moving to step around him, you were surprised when he grabbed your arm.

“These people are scum. Sent here to rot until they die. Some deserve to just disappear all together.” His grip tightening the more hateful words that spilled out.

Getting as close as you felt necessary, your glare attempted to penetrate him. “While that may be your opinion, I find it to be quite the ignorant veiw. These people were sent here in hopes of bettering themselves. The staff are expected to help them on that path. But it seem some employees that aren’t suited for the task, have slipped through.“ You tried to wretch your arm free. Only to find that his hold had become achingly strong. Working to not let panic set in, you discreetly shuffled you hand into your medical bag.

“Well maybe if bitches like you would stop leading nice guys on. All while they were cozying up to monsters. I wouldn't have to do this.”

In one swift moment several dominos fell. He struck you across the face. While he paused to take in your reaction, you stabbed his cheeks with a scalpel. Before he could cry out, the cell door behind you both blew open. Where Waylon, who had heard everything, leapt from.

He descended upon the guard. At first he was seeing red from his rage. Then his body became red with the blood of the man who had dared to harm you. It wasn’t until you touched him that he came back to reality.

The alarms were blaring, so you had to raise your voice for him to understand you. “You have to get out of here.” Shoving the jacket in his arms, you pushed him towards a staff exit. “I’ll cover for you. Just get to this address.”

He looked down to what you were shoving into his hands. Your staff badge and license sat in his palms. Looking back at you in disbelief, he was at a loss for words. So he acted instead, bringing you in for a long passionate kiss. “Meet me there?”

You gave him a breathless nod and smiled. “Of course.”

[avastrasposts]

The Pilot and his Girl - ch. 19 **

I had a lot of fun writing this chapter because we've got some nice smut but also a long action sequence unlike anything I've written before and that was fun so I hope you enjoy it!

Please comment and reblog, I love hearing your thoughts on the story and my writing! And BIG thank you to all of you who continue to support this crazy little one shot that's now 19 chapters long.... (and growing).

Chapter 20

Series Master List

Word count: 6.6k

Warnings have their own post, but contain spoilers

Frankie meets you in front of the high school kitchen that same afternoon, you’re going to head over to the gym for another round of combat training with him. Even from a far you can see his big smile when he walks towards you.. 

“I talked to Benny!” he grins when he gets close, pulling you in as he wraps his arms around your waist. 

“Oh that’s amazing! How are they doing? Is Will with him?” 

“He sounded good, apart from when I asked about Will. He doesn’t know where he is, he went missing the evening of the outbreak.” Frankie sighs and pushes a strand of hair behind your ear as your smile slips.  “I guess that was expected since Ingrid didn’t hear about Will, but I was still trying to hope.” 

“Me too, and Ben didn’t sound hopeful about it being the guy Pope mentioned in New York. He said Will’s office building was on fire and there were lots of infected when he got there, he didn’t give me any details but ... .yeah, didn’t sound good.” He takes your hand and you walk over towards the double doors into the gym, “But I did get the paperwork for a transfer, just need to drop Pope’s form over to his place this afternoon, you wanna come with me after our session?” 

“Yeah, I’ll come, I haven’t been to that part of Franklin yet,” you say as he holds open the door for you, stepping into the empty gym hall. Large windows provide enough light for your needs, the electricity isn’t on for this part of the building most days. 

““You ready for this?” Frankie asks, dropping his bag on the floor. 

“No, I’m so tired from last night but you’re not gonna let me skip it are you?” you give him a mock scowl and he grins. 

“Not a chance, when we get to Arlington I’m gonna ask Benny to train you, Master Class style, and then you’ll need every trick I can teach you.” 

“Oh fuck it…just throw me to the infected now and be done with it…” you sigh and start jogging around the gym to warm up. 

Frankie puts you through your paces, making you drip with sweat as you punch and dodge around him. When he’s ready to let you practice breaking loose from his grip, your muscles are aching. 

“Frankie, I’m wasted, please, can we just call it a day?” You’re bent double, hands on your knees, breathing hard, after a final sparring match where Frankie barely pulled his punches.

“Five times, just break my grip five times and then we’ll call it,” he says, handing you a towel to wipe yourself down with. You pull your drenched t-shirt over your head, stripping down to your sports bra underneath, and Frankie’s eyes darken as he watches you pat your skin with the towel. 

You catch his eye and smirk, “If you wanna do something else, that’s totally fine with me too.” You let the towel slip over your cleavage and up along your neck, tilting your head back and from under your lashes you see Frankie open his mouth, the pink tip of his tongue coming out and swiping across his lower lip. 

“Tempting,” he says, reaching out and grabbing the towel from you and throwing it back towards his bag. “But not just yet, five times, c’mon.” 

Turns out being in only a sports bra makes things easier for you. Your sweat slick skin easily slips under Frankie’s fingers the first two times until he catches on and uses a different grip, pinning you to the floor as you scramble to hook your legs around him in the way he showed you earlier. You manage the grip but your muscles are too tired and Frankie too heavy, with a pathetic whimper you go limp under him. 

“I give, I can’t do any more today:” 

Frankie chuckles and loosens his grip, dropping down with his elbows on either side of your head. “What about this one, can you get out of this one?” he smiles, you’ve got your legs around his waist, his hips dropped into the cradle of yours and you can feel his rapidly growing hard on. 

“I don’t think so, unfortunately” you give him a mock sigh, shifting your hips under him and the friction between the two of you makes you both groan. Frankie drops down closer and brushes his nose across your cheek, down over your neck slick with salty perspiration, finding the spot under your ear where he always likes to leave a mark. 

“What about now?” he whispers, rolling his hips into you as his tongue comes out to taste the salt on your skin and you moan into the air as your hands find purchase in his damp curls.

“Frankie, we’re on the floor in the middle of the gym.” You can hear people walking past the double doors leading into the big hall and you’re suddenly very aware of how public you are if someone walks in. Frankie pushes up off the ground, grabbing hold of your hand as he rocks back on his heels and stands up. 

“Come,” he says, pulling you with him towards the locker rooms at the back, stopping to grab your bags off the floor.. You’ve never showered in here but you know there’s running water for those who use the gym. Now Frankie pulls you into the women’s section and locks the door behind you. 

“Take your clothes off, I wanna shower with you,” he smiles, dumping the bags on a bench and pulling his t-shirt over his head. You quickly strip, kicking your sneakers off and watch as Frankie unlaces his boots and stands to pull his pants off, his boxers tenting over his cock. You step closer, running your fingers under the elastic, slipping under and wrapping your hand around the heavy length as Frankie inhales sharply. You let your fingers stroke him up and down while your other hand pushes down his boxers, letting them pool around his feet. 

A hushed “Fuck,” escapes him as his head tips back, “Your hands are always so soft and warm.” 

“Not as soft and warm as other parts of me,” you smile, giving him a firmer stroke, making his eyebrows knit together as he groans. A bead of precum glistens on the tip and you swipe your thumb across it, gently rubbing it into the smooth skin. Frankie looks down at your hand wrapped around his thick cock, your thumb brushing over the head on every upstroke and you watch his eyes, they’re almost black, so dark there’s hardly anything left of the warm brown color. His lips are parted, the tip of his tongue resting on his bottom lip and on impulse you lean forward and kiss him, slipping your tongue against his, tasting his mouth, the sweat from his scruffy mustache on his lips. His hand comes up and grabs yours around his cock and wIth a firm grip he backs you into the showers, your lips still pressed together. There are no stalls, just a big, white tiled room with shower heads, and Frankie turns the knobs on the first one, letting the water run until it’s hot, pushing you up against the cold tiles. The warm water runs down your face and between your bodies, your hand still stroking him, the hard length twitching under your fingers. 

“Slow down, hermosa,” Frankie breathes against your lips, “or I won’t last much longer.” You loosen your hold, slowing down as Frankie lets his hands slide over your shoulders, up into your hair, kissing you gently while his tongue tastes yours. His hands slip down, caressing your neck, his calloused thumbs running down your sternum, finding your pebbled nipples hard under his touch. He lets his cock slip from your grip as he sinks down onto his knees and you move your hands to his wet hair with a sigh. With firm grip on your thigh he lifts one of your legs onto his shoulder, holding you steady with his hand on your hip. 

He looks up at you, blinking away the water droplets, “Is this what you want, cariño?” he asks with a smirk on his lips and you smile back with a nod, he knows full well this is exactly what you want from him and his cheeky grin as he dips his head makes you giggle. The tip of his nose runs along the inside of your thigh, his tongue following, swiping through the water cascading over you both. His teeth sink into the plush flesh, making you gasp and buck your hips against his grip. The hot swipe of his tongue soothes your skin after, even with the warm water running down you. You can feel the heat building in your core as the anticipation makes your legs quake under his firm grip. 

“Please, Frankie,” you whimper, his clever tongue always brings you close to your climax almost too soon, but this time you don’t want to fight it, just let him push you over the edge as fast as he wants too. Your grip on his hair tightens and you feel him chuckling against the soft skin where the thigh meets your heated core. 

“You can’t get out of this grip, my sweet girl, so sweet tasting,” he smiles up at you, teasing at the top of your pussy with his nose. 

When he finally slides through your wet folds you moan loudly enough for it to echo around the tiled shower room. His tongue unfurls and drags through your heat, the pointed tip flicking across your clit without warning, making you gasp, water raining into your open mouth. He loves pulling strings of incoherent sounds from your mouth while he works his way through every trick he knows will have you clenching around his tongue as he buries it as deep as he can get. His nose nudges your clit with every stroke of his tongue and when your grip on his hair tightens, he shifts his hold on your hips, opening his jaw and pushing in deeper. 

You feel your legs starting to shake and Frankie looks up at you, your eyes are closed, your head tilted back, shallow breaths lifting your chest as the tension starts to build in your core. You’re moaning his name, rocking your hips against his face and he keeps his eyes on you as he takes your clit in his mouth, applying more pressure and with a few skilled flicks of his tongue, he feels your tension break with a cry of his name. 

He eases you through it, letting his mouth bring you down slowly until he moves away, placing a warm kiss on the crease of your thigh, and getting to his feet with a groan. 

“Tiles are not ideal for this, remind me next time,” he groans and you hold out your hands, pulling him up with a breathless chuckle as you try to bring your breathing back to normal. His hands find your face, cupping your cheeks as he sinks his lips onto yours, even with the shower you can taste yourself on his lips and tongue and it makes heat run through your core again. Letting your own hand slip between your bodies you easily find his hard length, twitching under your fingers as you wrap your hand around it. He groans into your mouth as you slowly pump it, his hips thrusting into your hand. 

“How do you want it, Frankie?” you mumble against his lips. 

“Turn around, against the wall,” he replies, pulling away and helping you turn, smoothing down his warm hand along your spin as you bend at the hips, leaning your forearms against the cool, white tiles. You can feel his hands roaming across the soft skin of your ass, grabbing the flesh and dimpling it under his large hands. One hand leaves your hip and the blunt head of his cock runs through your folds, making you push your hips back towards him, Frankie giving a low, appreciative groan. You turn your head and look back at him, his jaw is clenched and his eyes trained on where he’s slowly sinking into you, pacing himself to not push in to fast. The stretch makes you keen and gasp, he’s already big, but from behind he stretches you even more, hitting new nerve endings deep inside. You can feel your walls clenching around him, your body responding to the feeling of his cock pushing so deep. With a growl, Frankie sinks all the way in. His hands leave your hips and smooths along your sides, down over your breasts, cupping them under his wet hands. 

“Come closer, hermosa,” he whispers, gently pulling you up against his chest, his hips flush with your ass, the change in angle making you both gasp. Frankie wraps an arm around chest, one hand on your hips,and starts pumping, driving up into you, making you cry out with every thrust. You reach up and grab onto the back of his head, tangling your fingers into his wet curls, turning so that you can reach his lips, a messy kiss with shower water running over your faces, into your mouths and down your bodies. Frankie is breathing hard into you, his hands roaming over your skin, grabbing all that he can find before sliding down between your legs. With practiced motions he circles your swollen clit with, making your arch your back into him. 

“GIve me another one, cariño, I want to feel you come on my cock, take me with you.” His hips slam into you, his cock hitting nerves deep inside, and you feel the heat rush through you, his fingers slipping over your clit, tightening the coil inside. Frankie’s lips leave yours, trailing along your jaw as you squeeze your eyes shut, meeting every one of his thrusts best you can. Your rhythm falters as his fingers change their pattern, slipping down to feel where he’s pushing into you before sliding up to run firm circles around your pulsing bundle of nerves. With a groan against your ear, Frankie speeds up, breathing heavily through the pelting water from the shower head. As his teeth find your neck, that one spot only he seems to find, you snap, your body folding onto itself if it wasn’t for Frankie’s arm coming up to hold you tight to his chest. You whimper his name and his hand digs into your flesh, the heat of his spend flooding inside you, making you convulse around him again. Frankie groans, pumping his hips against you, trying to steady his legs on the tiled floor as he buries himself as deep as he can go in you. You hang your head, leaning it against the cool wall and Frankie’s hot cheek rests on your shoulder. 

With a low hiss Frankie pulls out and turns you around, wrapping his arms around your neck as he leans his forehead against yours. He’s dripping out of you, mixing with the water, and you close your eyes as a deep calm settles over you. Frankie is caressing your hair, running his fingers through your wet strands, humming contentedly under his breath. You reach up and find his lips with your eyes still closed, the soft, plush feel of his mouth familiar under your lips. 

You remain under the shower until it starts to run cold, making you quickly clean up, you shriek as the last minute is under ice cold water, rinsing shampoo out of your hair. Frankie wraps you in his big towel as you come out, rubbing his hands up and down your arms as he chuckles. 

“You’ll get warm as we walk over to Pope’s place,” he says, starting to dry off himself and you follow suit. 

It turns out Pope’s place is pretty close to the wall and tucked away in a part of the QZ that still hasn’t been cleared out very much. Frankie and you make your way past bombed out buildings and burnt cars before finally finding the right address. Pope’s on the first floor, his living room window looking out at the actual wall, dissecting a wide city street. He shows you around, the small one bedroom place that he clearly shares with a woman, but she’s not in this evening. Frankie lets his gaze wander around the apartment, taking in various items stacked in the corners of the rooms. 

“Lots of stuff here, Pope,” he comments and the younger man shrugs. 

“Just holding on to some stuff for some contacts, it’ll be gone by tomorrow.” 

“You know FEDRA doesn't take smuggling lightly, right?” Frankie says, his tone a warning, “If they suspect you’re into it they’re not going to approve your application for a transfer." 

“I’m applying under my real name, I’ll just say I was here on outbreak day and that there must’ve been a slip up in the system. If Benny vouches for Santiago Garcia, it won’t be an issue.” 

“Ok, but I won’t be able to help you if your transfer doesn’t go through, I’m applying with her as my fiancee and I’m not risking anything with that.” Frankie motions to you, you’re in the kitchen, helping Pope chop up a bunch of slightly wrinkled carrots for a stew he’s got going. 

“Sin problemas, hermano, it’ll go through.” He brings out three glasses, “You guys staying for dinner right?” he asks, raising them questioningly to you and you look at Frankie who nods. 

“Yeah, sure, I’ve got a late shift tomorrow.” 

With the stew done Pope ladles it into bowls for the three of you, digging out some stale bread from a cupboard. “It’s a bit dry but guaranteed free from those fucking spores,” he says, handing it out. 

While you eat, Pope tells the two of you more about life inside the QZ. 

“In short, FEDRA are quickly making everybody who’s not FEDRA pretty pissed off. If they’d only let people trade more openly, what they find inside the QZ, they wouldn’t have an issue with smuggling.” Pope leans back and sips the whiskey he’s poured you all. “And a major part of the problem is that all their ‘soldiers’ are inexperienced rookies, hardly a real soldier among them, you must’ve picked up on that Frankie?” he raises his eyebrows at his friend and Frankie nods. 

“Yeah, I spend a lot of time training people who join FEDRA but really have no business in the army.” 

“Did you hear about the woman who got raped in FEDRA lock up?” Pope asks and you widen your eyes in horror. 

“What the fuck, Pope, what happened?” 

“She got caught smuggling two pairs of boots, nothing major, not like it was medicine or food.” Pope scowls, shaking his head. “And the jackass who picked her up, threw her in lock up instead of giving her a fine and letting her go home. Then the night shift came in to keep an eye on the prisoners, there were only two, this woman and a guy they caught stealing. And these two FEDRA guys, both new to the QZ, signed up to get inside, they took turns with her.” Pope’s hand clenches as his jaw tightens. “They threatened the thief, told him they’d bash his head in if he told anyone. The poor woman was a wreck when the day shift turned up, all beat up and bruised but wouldn’t say a word.” 

“Shit,” Frankie growls under his breath, his hand gripping your thigh as he glances over at you. You’ve got tears in your eyes, you can’t even, you don’t even want to, imagine the horror the woman must’ve gone through. The memory of the threats the looters had made while you were restrained at their house makes your skin crawl. Thank god for Frankie. 

“Once word got out, because her friends sure as hell guessed what had happened when she came back, there was nearly a riot. But FEDRA said the woman was lying, protected the men and did fuck all apart from squash all protests, cut rations, imposed a curfew, that one’s still in place by the way.” Pope nods at the window. “Speaking of which, you two should start heading back or you won’t make it back on time.” 

“Yeah, true,” Frankie says, pushing back his chair. 

“Thanks for dinner, Santi,” you say, getting up to hug him, “I know I said it yesterday, but it’s so good to see you safe and have you around again.” 

“Same to you, hermana,” he smiles, giving you a tight squeeze before turning to Frankie, giving him a bear hug. 

“Cuídate, el pececito,” he grins, ducking to avoid Frankie’s swipe at his head with a chuckle. 

“Cuídate, pendejo,” Frankie scowls, taking hold of your hand and flipping Pope the finger with a grin before you get ready to leave and make your way through the bombed out city.

The transfer process is faster than any of you expected, Frankie hands in the two applications, with Benjamin Miller as a reference in Arlington the next day, and it’s not even a week before the all clear comes through. Frankie’s commanding officer in Franklin is less than happy, scowling at him as he begrudgingly gives him his approval to leave. 

“If it wasn’t for the fact that you used to live in Arlington…” he sighs, “I would’ve denied this. I hate losing such an experienced officer, Morales. You’ve been a great asset in training the men and showing them the ropes.” 

“Thank you, sir,” Frankie replies, standing to attention in front of the man’s desk. “I’m anxious to get back to Arlington, as is my fiancee, and we still have friends there.”

“Well, best of luck to you, the transport will be taking you and supplies on Wednesday, if it all goes to plan. You’d better get packing.” 

“Thank you, sir.” Frankie snaps a sharp salute before he turns around and leaves. Three days to pack up should be plenty, neither of you have many things, mainly just a few clothes and shoes that’ll fit in the backpacks you got from the donation center. But there’s a knot of worry in the pit of his stomach. The actual journey to Arlington was going to be risky, even with an escort. Stepping out of the FEDRA headquarters he turned his face to the sky, closing his eyes for a minute. 

Am I doing the right thing but risking this trip with her? On my own, it wouldn’t matter, but with her…what if something happens to her? Fuck, don’t even let yourself go that way, Francisco, she wants to go and she won’t let me leave her behind,. Besides, as if I could leave her, I tried that already, for all the good it did. No, I won’t let anything happen, I’ll have her back and Pope will too. 

He drops his head back down and starts walking towards the high school kitchen to give you the news.

Wednesday morning three of you make your way to the main QZ gate where the convoy is waiting. There’s two army  trucks in your transport, hardly an actual convoy, but it feels safe enough and Frankie seems to be content with the security arrangements. The security isn’t for you three though, the trucks are loaded with supplies, mainly food, for Arlington. From what Frankie’s heard, Franklin has plenty of food, but hardly any medical supplies, Arlington still has a functional hospital, but a problem with their food supply so there’s regular trade between the two QZ’s. Hence the heavily guarded transports. 

The three of you are directed to the second truck along with a driver and a soldier up front. Frankie and Pope have been given automatic rifles to help guard the truck should anything happen. You’ve been given a small handgun, just in case, and Frankie gives you a quick refresher on how to use it.

“Grab it with both hands like this, remember?” he shows you, “Safety is here, and then just gently squeeze the trigger, ok?” 

“Ok, Frankie,” you say, nodding as you check the safety again and put it in the leg holster it came with. 

“You look like a bad ass with that gun,” Pope grins at you as he climbs into the truck bed behind you. You roll your eyes at him and settle into your seat. 

“I just hope I don’t have to use it because chances are I’ll hit you instead of what I’m actually aiming at.” 

“Just yell ‘Fore!’ before you fire, give me a chance to duck,” he chuckles, giving your shoulder a quick squeeze. “Don’t worry, just relax if you have to fire and you’ll do fine.” 

You laugh gratefully at Pope’s attempt at lighting the mood but Frankie remains quiet, his eyebrows knitted together in a worried look. You know the risks of this transport has been weighing on his mind, and it shows in the tense way he holds his shoulders as he triple checks his rifle and glances back at you. 

“If anything happens, get down on the floor and stay down, ok?” he says and you nod, even though it’s the fifth time he’s told you this in the past two hours. 

“I promise, Frankie, head down, make myself as small as possible.” 

“Ok, ok,” he says, his eyes drifting up towards the soldiers on the walls tasked with making sure it’s clear for the transport to leave the QZ. 

The gate creaks open after the all clear and the first truck rumbles out into the city. The first truck has a driver and five soldiers, from your seat behind the driver of your truck you can see four of them sitting under the covered truck bed, scanning the bombed out landscape as the trucks move away from the safety of Franklin QZ. Behind you, Frankie and Pope are on high alert too, you can hear their low conversation about potential threats during the three hour drive. 

The first couple of hours are quiet, only a few pockets of infected rush out towards the sound of the trucks and are quickly disposed of by the soldiers in the first truck. You can hear them cheer and celebrate after a particularly accurate shot but they all need at least three shots to take down any infected. 

“Wasting fucking bullets,” you hear Pope mumble under his breath at Frankie, who grimaces and takes aim at few stragglers running towards the trucks. They all go down with three consecutive head shots, efficiently shutting up the cheers from the truck in front. 

“Haven’t lost your touch, Catfish,” Pope grins, still scanning the surroundings for more infected. 

Frankie lowers his rifle and gives you an uncomfortable look, “They used to be regular civilians, Pope,” he says, dropping his gaze. Pope looks back at him and shrugs. 

“Yeah, of course, but they’re already gone, either we kill them or they kill us, you know?” 

“Yeah, I know, but they still look like civilians.” 

You reach over and put your hand on Frankie’s shoulder when Pope isn’t looking, giving it a light squeeze. He turns and opens his mouth to say something but his words are drowned out by an ear splitting explosion, the shock wave reverberating through your lungs. Frankie’s hands are on you in a split second, shoving you down in between the seats, you can see that he’s yelling something but your ears are ringing. The truck slams to a stop and between the seats you see the first truck flipped on its roof, engulfed in flames. Pope leans forwards and slaps the shoulder of the driver, you can see him yelling Drive! Drive! The truck lurches forward again, picking up speed, you fall sideways onto the truck floor as it swerves to the right to get around the burning wreck. A pick up truck suddenly shoots out of a side street in front of your one remaining truck, keeping its distance, it drives at high speed just in front of the army truck, something mounted on the flatbed. You can’t see what it is but there’s men on it and as you watch, dazed from the explosion, you hear the first loud cracks of  gunfire.

“Frankie! They’ve got a fucking mini gun! Shoot the gunner! Shoot!” Pope is roaring above you and you see both men crouch down and take aim, firing shots at the man handling the mounted gun on the pick-up. 

“Behind! Behind!” the driver of your truck suddenly yells and Frankie turns, a second pick-up is coming up from behind, two men in the truck bed with guns raised, 

“I got it!” Frankie yells, you see him crouch down to steady his aim, but the truck is lurching all over the road as the driver tries to avoid the gunfire from the pick-up in front. Frankie’s shots go wide and you hear him curse, your hearing slowly returning. A gasp from the front seat makes you turn and you see the soldier in the passenger seat slumped over, blood pouring out from a gaping hole in his chest. 

“Fuck!” The driver shouts, glancing over at his dead companion, “Kill the fucking gunner! We’re sitting fucking ducks here!” 

“Keep the truck steady, I’m trying,” Pope yells from above you, taking aim again. You're crouched down between the seats, trying to make yourself as small as possible, and Pope’s gunfire is loud in your ears above you.

“Fish, how’s it going back there?” Pope yells, his gun still trained on the pick-up truck in front.

“Two men down, I can’t hit the tires, we’re moving too much!” Frankie yells back. “Cariño, you ok?” He glances back at you and you meet his eyes, giving him a quick nod, he can see your terrified face between the seats. You can hear gunshots pinging off the metal of the truck and you’re trying to make yourself as small as possible, hoping the engine block in front will cover you. 

Frankie turns back and takes aim, firing at the pick-up but the truck suddenly lurches, veering to the left, and something wet and dark splatters onto the floor in front of you. You stare at it, trying to figure out what you're looking at when Pope yells from above.

“Grab the wheel, grab the wheel, we lost the driver!”  

You look over the seat and flinch backwards, the driver's right temple is missing and you squeeze your eyes shut, pushing down the bile that’s rising in your throat. 

“Why are we slowing down?!” Frankie yells from behind, turning to see Pope struggling to pull the dead driver away from the wheel and get control of the truck. It’s slowing down, bumping over the verge of the road. 

“Cariño, grab the wheel, you’ve got to drive!” he yells, snapping you out of your frozen state and looking up again. Pope’s hauled the man to the side and as Frankie frantically fires on the rapidly approaching pick-up from behind you scramble over the driver’s seat and grab hold of the wheel and haul it back on to the road, accelerating again. In front you see that one of Pope’s bullets found its mark and the dead gunner is being hauled over the side of the pick-up but another man is taking his place, grabbing the gun and aiming straight at you. 

“Pope!” you yell as the mini gun rattle into life, little bursts of asphalt flying from in front of the truck as the bullets hit. 

“I got it!” 

“Pope, you better fucking take out that gun!” Frankie yells from the back. 

“I got it!” Pope’s aiming at the tires of the pick-up, it swerves to avoid them and it makes the bullets from the mini gun go wide. You hear them ping off the metal, the windscreen is shattered and something thuds into the seat next to you with a heavy impact. 

“Frankie, I’ve got it!” You hear Pope yell and you glance back. Frankie’s turned around and is aiming at the pick-up in front. 

“You’re fucking missing everything!” he yells back, firing a first round at the tires. One of his bullets takes out a back tire and the pick-up starts wobbling. The gunner has to hang on to the gun to not be thrown off, and a burst of bullets spray across the engine block, shattering the headlights in a shower of glass. 

A second volley of bullets from Frankie hits another tire and the driver loses control, careening off the road and flipping over in a cloud of dust. 

“Just drive, cariño!” Frankie yells at you, “Just keep it steady and follow the QZ signs!” He turns around and from the miraculously still whole rear view mirror, you see him and Pope crouch down and take aim at the pursuing pick-up. Up ahead you see the looming wall of Arlington QZ, maybe just a mile down the road. 

“Almost at the QZ!” you yell back over the din of the gunfire. You glance back in the rear view mirror again, the pick-up is wobbling and both men are concentrating their fire at the front tires. It takes only a few seconds longer for both tires to blow out and the pick-up crashes into the wall of a crumbling building, careening through the entrance. You look ahead at the road again and groan. A group of infected are running onto the street further down the city block and there’s no way to avoid them. 

“Hold on!” you yell back at Frankie and Pope, “Infected up ahead!”

Frankie glances back and sees you grip the steering wheel hard, your knuckles white, shoulders by your ears, as the truck barrels towards the infected. He grabs hold of the cross bar as Pope turns around to fire at the infected. He downs one before you hit the first one, and you wince at the sickening thud of the body on the truck, the infected is thrown away from the road as you continue. You suddenly hear Pope yelp from behind you and Frankie shouts, grabbing your shoulder. 

“Stop the truck, stop!” 

You hammer the brakes, knocking over another infected but now the rest of them are running towards the truck. 

“Back up, Pope fell off!” Frankie yells and you look in the rear view mirror as you slam the truck into reverse, thank god it’s automatic, and you see him flat on his back three hundred feet behind the truck. He’s moving, still holding on to his gun, but there are infected running for him and Frankie takes aim. 

“Get to him and I’ll pull him up, then you drive for the gate!” he shouts back at you, trying to pick off as many of the infected as possible. You’re struggling to keep the truck on track, reversing an army truck is a lot different from reversing your own tiny car. Frankie curses as his shots miss, hitting the shoulder of an infected who keeps running for Pope. He’s taken out two but two more are still coming. In front of the truck you see the rest of the horde barreling down towards you too. 

Pope’s managed to sit up, shaking his dazed head as you hit the brakes a few feet away. 

“Get up!” Frankie roars at him, taking aim and firing, the infected closest to Pope drops in its tracks. “Get the fuck up, Pope!” 

“Frankie, we’ve got more infected in front!” you shout to Frankie, turning to look at the scene in the back. 

“Fuck!” he hisses and jumps out of the truck, on to the road. With two long strides he’s on Pope, grabbing him under his armpits and pulling him to his feet. “I need you to fucking move, Pope!” he groans, taking the weight of his friend. You see the last infected running straight for Frankie’s back and you shout a warning but there’s nothing Frankie can do as he shoves Pope up towards the truck, trying to make him climb up. You grab your handgun, flicking the safety off and holding it with both hands. You have to aim just to the side of Frankie and you lean on the seat, steadying your hands. Frankie sees what you're doing and crouches down, grabbing hold of Pope’s legs to hoist him up into the truck. 

“Remember the kick!” he yells and at the last second you square your shoulders, locking your arms as you aim down the sight. The seconds seem to move slow like syrup as you exhale and gently squeeze the trigger, just like he told you.The kick back jolts your hands but you hold steady and like magic, the infected screeches and drops to the ground and stays there, mere feet from Frankie’s back.. 

Pope’s regained enough sense to crawl onto the truck bed and Frankie scrambles in behind him. “Drive, cariño, drive!” he yells and you turn back to the wheel, the rest of the horde is only twenty feet away as you slam the truck into drive. The truck rips through the infected closest and they fly to the sides, a sickening crunch as one ends up under the truck but you’re too filled with adrenaline to notice. With a death grip on the wheel you aim for the big gate of the QZ that’s slowly opening, you can see lines of soldiers on the wall, guns trained on the infected now behind you. 

As the truck gets in range they open fire, the infected screeching as the bullets find them, and you barrel through the open gate, hitting the brakes as you’re faced with a large concrete enclosure and no way through on the other side, the truck shuddering to an abrupt stop. You turn in your seat in time to see the last of the infected fall as the gate slams shut behind you. 

You made it. 

You slump down over the steering wheel, breathing hard, your hands shaking. From outside you hear yelled orders for you all to exit the vehicle and you pull your eyes up. Frankie and Pope climb down from the back and Frankie comes round and puts his hand on the driver’s side window. 

“You ok, cariño?” he asks and you nod. 

“Yeah, just need a few seconds to stop my legs from shaking,” you smile weakly and he grins back. 

“You did amazing, never knew you could shoot like that, babe.” 

“Lower your guns, soldiers!” you suddenly hear from outside the truck and you look up, the voice instantly familiar. “I know these guys!”

“Benny!” Pope roars and grins at the younger Miller brother who’s walking through a smaller gate with an equally wide grin. 

“So fucking good to see you guys!” He laughs as he grabs Pope and lifts him off his feet, making Pope groan as his ribs crack under the onslaught of Benny’s muscular arms. Frankie’s next and you hear the three men laugh and rile each other as you open the driver’s side door and step out carefully, your legs still feel like jelly. 

Benny looks at you with a smile as you climb down, “Should’ve know it was your girl driving like a fucking champ, Fish!” he laughs, slapping Frankie’s shoulder again before turning back to you. Benny’s eyes go wide and he steps towards you but before he reaches you, you feel the ground disappear under your feet and you fall. 

“We need a medic!” Benny yells as Frankie turns to see you slumped on the ground, blood staining the gravel under you red.

Chapter 20

Taglist: @pimosworld @i-own-loki @casa-boiardi @littlenosoul @stormseyer @mxtokko  @javicstories @nunya7394 @welcometothepedroverse @harriedandharassed @meveispunk

[ms-ajt-whumps]

Handholding and Asthma

Genre: Whump, Fluff. CW/TW: Bullying, Asthma Attack

Fandom: The Adam Project Characters: Young!Adam, Y/n, Ray, Chuckie, Ellie

2332 words

Let me know if any tags of warnings should be added, I want to be sure everything I post is properly tagged.

@almost-gabrielle

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Adam would never admit this, but Ray did scare him a little bit. It wasn't that Ray was actually an effective bully, it was more that he had a couple inches on Adam and serious daddy issues. There was also the chance that Ray would accidentally hurt Adam, worse than he himself was truly capable of. Freak accidents could always occur.

It had started simply enough: Ray had been picking on Adam’s friend Y/n during lunch. Now, it wasn’t that Adam like-liked Y/n, because he really, truly, most definitely, 100%, probably didn’t, but he couldn’t stand by while Ray picked on her. So, he’d instigated. Ray had rounded on him and bolted, and so did Adam. They’d run through the lunchroom and the school, dodging teachers, the principal’s grabbing hand, and other students until eventually Adam (who felt that his lead in the race would save him from a serious ass-kicking) burst outside. He’d hesitated, looking left and right, breathing heavily but not badly, and hurried to one side. He had felt, with his advantageous lead and stable (so far) breathing, that he’d win. He had not. Adam fucking tripped and went sprawling. Ray had been on him in a second, yanking him to his feet and pinning Adam up against a wall, glaring at him. Adam's mouth went a mile a minute. Quips, jabs, one liners, some of them even pretty good. They had flowed out automatically, the easiest thing in the world for him. It wasn't until Adam had said something about Ray and Chuckie being too stupid to snark anything back that Ray had really reacted. 

“You turds are standing here like a couple of mute mimes, ventriloquist dummies with no puppetmaster. You really think I'm going to be scared of a couple of meat bags who can't even talk?” Or something like that. Adam couldn't really remember what it had been right now, as he was on his back on the ground, Ray's foot stomped down into his chest. 

“You think you're so funny, Reid.” Ray had sneered. He had grabbed Adam by the front of his shirt and jerked him forward and around, pushing him to the ground. “Well, we'll see how funny you are when, …when you've lost!” Ray had put his foot on Adam's chest triumphantly. Chuckie had offered up his hand for a high five, a lumbering and slow gesture, a stupid grin on his face, and Ray smacked it, smirking down at Adam.

“That's your best? Really?” Adam snarked back from the ground, to which Ray pressed his foot down harder. This was when it began. It, the pressure. Then It, the crushing feeling, the internal collapse of systems intended to keep you alive. Damn it, he’d been fine running, even. You'd think providing oxygen to a 98 pound twelve year old would be an easy task, but no, apparently not for Adam's lungs. He sucked in a thin, wheezy breath, looking up at Ray. Adam tried to glare but the fear was setting in. He did the only thing he knew how. “Step any harder on me and I'll have to petition your mom to stop being so fat. The weight was…” he gasps slightly as pain snaked through him, “transferred to you in bone density. Thank God not in fat density, or you'd be enormous.” 

Ray looked presently peeved at this, and moved to punch Adam in the face. Adam sucked in another wheezing breath. Chuckie stood stupidly alongside Ray.

“Leave him alone!” An indignant shout rung out across the lot. 

Ray's head swiveled to see who it was. The girl from lunch. The quiet one. He smirked. “Go home, you're not involved in this.” He pulled back from Adam, his foot still on his chest, baring his own chest to the girl. He was trying to look big and scary. Ray almost didn't even bother really looking at her, he figured she would be scared off pretty easily, but at the last second caught a glimpse of her expression. His eyes snapped up, a thin trail of dread trickling down him. He saw anger. Crystal clear, unfiltered fury. More than Ray had ever seen, even from his mom when he failed tests. She also looked calm, like she knew precisely how to… how to…

“Let him go,” Y/n said firmly. “Before I have to fuck you up, Ray.”

This made Chuckie nervous; he took an unconscious step backward. Ray looked to him desperately, betrayed. “Chuck,” he hissed.

Adam wheezed tightly again, hands twitching against the concrete, searching for something to hold onto.

She stalked towards the three, a menacing stature about her. Determination, Certainty. “Go, Ray. Before I have to bring you home in a bag.” Y/n was two feet from him when his nerve finally broke. He stepped off Adam, who gasped and coughed, and took a couple nervous steps backward. Y/n looked at him darkly, shooing him away with her hands. 

Ray really wanted to be tough, but he kind of believed her. Maybe she would bring him home in a bag. Maybe she was insane or something. He took another couple steps away, still hesitating, looking for an opening he could hurt her through. But there were none, so he ran. Chuckie ran with him of course, much more slowly. 

Y/n called, “You're a bitch, Ray! Everyone knows it!” Then she was on her knees, talking to Adam very gently. “What's wrong?”

He wheezed, hands grabbing at his chest. He looked briefly at her, the panic now evident in his brown eyes. 

“Asthma attack, Ok. Where's your inhaler?” Y/n said quickly, hands at the ready, hovering in the air over Adam. “You have it with you, right?” Her eyes flashed to his, suddenly nervous.

Adam nodded, coughing, and grappled with the front pocket of his jeans. Y/n pushed his hands away quickly–they fell uselessly to the ground–and wrestled the inhaler from his pocket. She pulled the cap off and tossed it aside, bringing the inhaler to Adam's mouth.

“Ready?” Y/n asked.

He couldn't respond, just coughing and wheezing. He reached for her and grabbed her arm tightly, pulling it towards himself. 

Y/n put the inhaler in his mouth and triggered it. “3… 2… 1…” she counted down for him, watching his face closely. Adam let his breath out in a burst of air. Y/n rested a light hand on his chest, keeping the inhaler near his face. “Good?” she asked quietly. 

He shook his head, weakly pulling her arm back towards him, brown eyes wide with anxiety and focused on the next dose of medicine. He winced as his lungs wracked with pain again. She put the inhaler back in his mouth and triggered it again. Y/n counted again, watching him closely. Adam relaxed slightly, closing his eyes as he held his breath. He let his breath out slowly, the correct way, and sighed. His eyes flickered open, looking at Y/n with a surprised, trusting expression. He didn't talk for a long minute, just laying tiredly on his back, staring at this girl in front of him. Adam dimly realized that he still held her wrist and awkwardly let go, hand falling to the ground.

Y/n asked, “Should you sit up?”

Adam nodded, tiredly trying to get himself up. Y/n helped quickly, pulling him up by the arms. Adam ended up slumped against her, which made Y/n blush slightly. She supported his weight though, figuring that he needed the contact. Adam still didn't say anything, just breathing slowly. Y/n grabbed his hand and pushed the inhaler into it, wrapping his fingers around it for him. “There you go,” she said softly, feeling awkwardly self-conscious about holding Adam like she was. That wasn’t something that people who were just classmates did.  

“Thanks,” Adam finally said. “Ray is a bitch.” He continued to just slump against her, trying to pretend that he would get up soon and that he wasn’t really liking being this close to her. He didn’t have a crush on her. 

She nodded, smiling. They sat there in the quiet for a long time. Adam toyed with his inhaler and glanced shyly up at her and away quickly again when their eyes meet. He breathed slowly. “What makes you brave enough to…” Adam asked quietly, his eyes tracking her face.

She shrugged, jostling Adam slightly, looking off into the distance as she considered the question. The way Adam was leaning on her reminded her of the one time when she was a child and had found a puppy with a hurt foot. She’d cradled him too, as a protector. “I just know how to scare him. He's not really that big.”

“Bigger than me,” Adam mumbled, still fiddling with his inhaler. 

“Everyone's bigger than you, Adam,” she teased, laughing. Y/n looked back to him, catching a smile on his face.

Adam was laughing too. He found he didn't mind when Y/n teased him. He pushed himself up, sitting alone now. 

“I'll have to teach you my tricks.” She smirked. 

Adam nodded quietly, triggering another puff off the inhaler into his mouth. 

“Do you usually have to do more than once?” Y/n asked curiously.

Adam held up a finger to show that he needed a second. Y/n waited patiently. He let out his breath slowly, then speaking. “For the worse ones.” 

“Oh. Okay.”

Quiet again. Adam looked shyly between the ground and Y/n, who pretended not to notice. She looked towards the playground. 

The awkwardness present wasn't only because these were two awkward middle schoolers, though that wasn't helping at all, …it was because Y/n had had a crush on Adam Reed for a little while now. Sure, he was scrawny and had asthma but who really cared? His jokes in class always made her want to cry laughing, and he seemed to not care about all the stupid stuff teachers were always trying to make kids care about. It was kind of like he knew what was important in life. Like he knew there was something bigger out there. He looked at her and her insides would do flips and turns and some shy part of her brain would urge ‘look away, look away right now!’ So she stared at the playground. Y/n could feel his gaze on her, and saw in her peripherals that he seemed just as nervous as her. He was looking at her and then away, then glancing back.

The most hopeful part of her brain whispered quietly, ‘What if he likes me too?’ But the protective part was quick to reprimand, ‘don't think like that, he probably doesn't.’ Y/n glanced quickly at him, their eyes met, and she looked away.

Adam looked away too, blushing. 

He wasn't sure why he was feeling so nervous all of a sudden, he'd never felt nervous around Y/n before. Usually she would just let him copy off her homework and would trade good snacks at lunch. It was chill. Maybe he was feeling weird ‘cause she'd saved him from Ray, not that Adam wouldn't have survived on his own, he would have been fine. Maybe it was because she had been so smart about his inhaler, or like… something about her not judging him, or… he glanced at her again, noting the pinkish color on her cheeks and ears.

‘Oh, dear god no, please no,’ some part of Adam’s mind pleaded. He glanced at her again. ‘Fuck. …That’s it, we’re fucked. We’re fucked for sure.’ He tried to shush his racing mind, and think like one coherent thought at least but before he knew it was going to happen his mouth said, “Wanna come over and see a movie?” This was punctuated by a mental ‘Fuck! No! What are you doing?!’ But it was too late, he’d said it. Now he was trapped. He stared hopelessly at Y/n, waiting for her to… crush his heart, maybe? Perhaps he was still too young  for that. Would she accept? She wasn’t even looking his way, what if she said no? Would he just die on the spot?

Y/n turned to him with an abashed smile and said, “Sure.” She was blushing. 

‘Dear god, no! You’ll get cooties or something, god, stop!’ “We could watch something at my house, I’m sure my mom could bring you home after,” Adam said, trying to play it super cool. His hands danced nervously around the plastic inhaler. 

She nodded. “That… that sounds good, I’ll bet my dad could pick me up too if needed.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and looked nervously at him, never wanting to look away but also thinking, ‘I need to blink, did I blink enough? Or too much? God, I’m the worst. This is terrible.’

“My mom should be here soon, we could…” He gestured to the pickup area of the parking lot.

“Yeah.”

-

Y/n and Adam were sitting on the sofa before the big screen, Alien playing. Ellie was at the kitchen table, trying desperately to comprehend her husband’s tax filing system. 

The tension was palpable. Y/n and Adam could basically feel electrical vibrations passing between the two of them. Neither were watching the movie.

“Do you like the… movie?” Adam asked softly, looking to Y/n.

“Yeah, I think so.” Y/n smiled, looking back at him. 

Adam glanced over his shoulder at his mom, then to Y/n. His whole brain was screaming not to, but he hesitantly placed his hand onto Y/n’s. His breath hitched nervously, as he waited for her to punch him in the face or scream in disgust, but… her fingers laced into his calmly. Adam glanced up at her, face beet red. She smiled, squeezing his hand in her own. 

Adam looked shyly back to the TV, a grin creeping onto his face. 

-Fin

[rkin413]

Naeishi Family - Father's Day

"Father, we're here!" Taka called, knocking on the door. Next to him Makoto stood, struggling slightly with a couple bags of groceries they'd picked up, and the twins behind them.

"Wanna go home..." Sachiko muttered quietly to herself, although Taka still heard her.

"Come now, Sachiko! It's Father's Day!" he scolded. "Don't you want to see your grandfather?"

"No."

Taka bit back a sigh. Sachiko had never liked his father – she was just as scared of him as she was of... everyone that wasn't himself, Makoto, or Noriko. The one thing the two of them most frequently clashed over was her tendency to hide for the entire duration of his father's visits, which were becoming increasingly rare. No doubt due at least in part to Sachiko's blatant rejection of him.

The door opened.

"Taka-Boy, Mako!" Hiroko greeted, opening the door to let the family in. "4'oclock on the dot, I see."

"Of course! Punctuality-"

"Is everything," both Makoto and Hiroko said in unison. Makoto coughed slightly, apparently not expecting the stero.

"I'm going to take these to the kitchen," he said, holding up his bags. Sachiko clung onto his leg and gave him a pleading look to keep him from leaving. He transfered one bag to the other hand and pat her head. "You'll be fine, Sachi. Hiroko, could you show me the thing we talked about on the phone?"

Taka knew he was referring to something about the two of them cooking a meal for the day, although he didn't know the specifics. Hiroko nodded and led him towards the kitchen.

His father's study creaked open, and Taka had to lunge for Sachiko as she tried to dash behind a nightstand. Foiled, she instead spun with surprising dexterity to hide behind Taka instead, bending his arm awkwardly in the process.

"Hello you three," his father greeted, looking tired. As usual. "Happy Father's Day, Kiyotaka."

"Happy Father's Day to you as well, Father!" Taka greeted. he was still happy to see his father, no matter how melancholy the other man's exhaustion made him.

Noriko, completely unlike her sister, charged her grandfather and wrapped her arms around his legs. Takaaki ruffled her hair.

"Hello, Golden Rule."

"That's Daddy and Papa's name for Nori," Sachiko muttered to herself.

"Say hello to your grandfather, Sachiko," Taka told her, his tone slightly sharper than he'd intended.

"...hi, grandpa." Sachiko said quietly, barely peeking out from behind Taka's legs. She immediately hid herself again, and this time Taka did sigh.

.................................................

Aside from Sachiko's chronic rudeness, which was worsened by her disappearing to who-knows-where once Taka had let go of her, the visit was nice. Makoto had come out a few minutes later to greet his father-in-law, and the adults had struck up a conversation about recent clean-ups in the area, including the fact that a mysterious group (either one of Hajime's groups or a copycat group) had set up air purifiers in the area. Makoto clearly intended to ask later, and Taka quietly wondered if his father and stepmother living in the area had anything to do with it. Makoto and Hiroko both disappeared into and reappeared from the kitchen, and after an hour and a half, the doorbell rang again.

"That'd be Yasu," Hiroko smiled, and Taka watched her bring her son and grandson in.

"Hiro!" Taka scolded, making Hiro jump as soon as he'd wandered leisurely though the door. Eiji did not, and just shot his Dad an amused look, knowing a scolding was incoming. "Everyone was meant to be here by five o'clock at the latest! How could you be so late!"

"Whoa, hey, chill lil'bro!" Hiro defended. "Our train lost power midway, okay?"

"He lost our tickets," Eiji snitched.

"No I didn't! You stole them!"

"Because you would have forgotten the, Dad. You didn't realize you didn't have them until we were at the station."

"The disrespect..."

"How'd that make you guys late if you had the tickets?" Makoto asked in confusion.

"Dad dragged me all around the station trying to get someone else's, while I was trying to get his attention."

"Hey, you got my attention plenty of times! You just used those times to give suggestions instead of telling me you had-"

"Enough!" Taka interrupted. "You both should be ashamed of yourselves, trying to take other people's tickets! Especially you, Hiro, you need to set a better example!"

Hiro muttered something about Sachiko's absence from the room that no one quite caught but Taka still wilted slightly.

"I'll go find Sachiko," Makoto volunteered. "Eiji, want to help?"

"Sure, Uncle Makoto, I can ferret her out." The two left, and Taka heard him asking about whether Toko, Komaru, and Ryuu would be joining them, which they wouldn't be. Something about being busy – Makoto had told Taka that he suspected they were going to visit the hospital again. He wished them the best.

"Heya Nori!" Hiro greeted, scooping up his niece. "You're glad to see me, right?"

Noriko nodded once, neutral expression never leaving her face, and Hiro somehow managed to deposit her on his shoulders despite the excess of dreadlocks on his head that logically should have blocked her.

"I'm glad to see you," Hiroko said, inexplicably smirking, "now give your mother a hug!"

Hiro obliged.

"Now, dinner's almost ready. Help me take stuff out of the oven, will ya?"

"This is the real reason we were late," Hiro stage-whispered to Noriko, "getting out of manual labor- ow!"

Hiroko had flicked his cheek. Hiro swung Noriko down back onto the ground and followed his mother, and there were various sounds from the kitchen for a minute.

"NO NO NO!" Sachiko screamed as Eiji, with a little too much glee on his face, physically dragged her back into the room by her legs. Taka stood up immediately, panic jolting through him. "HAGAKURE LET ME GO I WILL HURT YOU!"

Noriko walked over and picked up her sister's shoulder to help. Taka sat back down – if Noriko wasn't all that concerned, she probably wasn't hurt.

"ET TU NORI?!" she wailed.

"You cannot possibly think you're going to die," Eiji said. "Why do you do this?"

"Are you okay, Sachikio?" Makoto asked, peering into the room nervously.

"No!"

"She's fine, right Noriko?"

Noriko nodded.

"Don't trust them they're liars!"

Eiji was – he somehow took after his father, despite no actual biological relation – but Noriko wasn't.

"Dinner!" Hiroko called.

"It's more of a late brunch!" Hiro called immediately after.

Eiji sighed, dropping his half of his cousin.

...............................................................

Dinner/Brunch was nice – although Hiro tried to claim more credit for it than just 'took a vegetable casserole out of the oven' probably warranted, but Taka decided to let that one go.

Sachiko looked like she wanted to run off still, and only very cautiously ate a few bites of her curry, until Makoto told her he'd cooked that in it's entierty. Then she ate all of it and didn't touch anything else.

"Wait, there could have been something wrong with the cookwear..." she muttered to herself in horror shortly after dinner and Taka felt a twinge of a headache. She wasn't like this at home!

Naturally, she disappeared before anyone else noticed as soon as she was able. Well, perhaps not anyone, since Noriko was also missing.

"I'll go find her," Makoto quietly told him with a sigh. "Again."

"Oh, hey, while they're doing that, Eiji and I've got a present for ya, Pops!" Hiro said. "Eiji, I know we left it in the living room, can you go get it?"

Eiji rolled his eyes, shoved himself out of his seat, and dashed into the other room.

Hiroko took a sip of her tea, and turned to her son.

"So, any girls I should know about?"

"Ma! Come on, not today!" Hiro blushed.

"What about that nice Nakajima girl?" Hiroko's tone made it clear she was just teasing, and not expecting an actual potential daughter-in-law. "Or Aoi? She's been around, she's nice."

"I think I'd have to be the last guy on earth for Hina to consider anything with me," Hiro said. "Same with Kanonchi. And I'm not interested either!"

"I believe Hina is dating someone, actually," Taka volunteered. Hiro blinked.

"Wait, really? Oh, wait, 's it that guy with the blue hair again?"

"They're not dating – they're just roommates," Makoto volunteered, reentering the room with no children. "The girl's are working on something in the study – nothing that should cause trouble, but they want privacy."

"Oh? What is it?" Takaaki asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You'll see."

"Present!" Eiji declared, running back into the room. Taka wondered if he'd waited for Makoto to rejoin them.

.......................................................................

A couple of hours later, and sadly the younger Ishimarus had to set off. Noriko had come out of the study, and Sachiko had graduated to peeking through doorways of her own volition, at least.

Taka hugged his father on the way out, and Makoto gave him a slightly nervous handshake. Hiroko scooped them both up into a hug to deposit "motherly kisses" onto both their foreheads. Noriko tugged on Takaaki's pantleg, and he bent down to see what was on the piece of paper she was holding up to him. As soon as he was down to her level, she wrapped her arms around his neck in a hug.

"Thank you Noriko," he said. She didn't let go after several seconds. "Okay, I need to stand up now." Nothing. "Alright, I love you too, please let me go now, N-"

Sachiko dashed out of where she was hiding, gave her grandfather a kiss on the cheek and fled out the partially-opened door. Noriko let go, an unusally smug look on her usually restrained face. She then handed the piece of paper to her stunned grandfather, and skipped out after her sister, leaving the stunned group behind.

"Hey, Progress!" Hiro declared, breaking the silence. Taka shared a relieved grin with his husband, before they both abruptly realized their daughters had both left the house without them and had to chase after them.

[httpsaiki]

Waaaahhhh requests are open?! Congrats on 300 followers!! :D okie well now I have an idea~ don’t feel like you need to rush into it tho.

A soulmate AU of sorts~ you can only taste the things your soulmate has in their mouth.

The twist is that Gender neutral!reader and saiki both like to torture each other. Licking a shoe, eating those disgusting jellybeans, gulping hot chilly sauce. (Reader constantly threatens to lick a poop but saiki knows they never would) It’s a thing they’ve done before and after they’ve met each other.

—

Hi there! I think this request might be… over a year old. I am SO sorry for that! Thank you for sending it though!

I kinda put this blog down for a bit because my life got busy and blah blah who cares about that lol. But I was watching Saiki K. for the first time in a while and wow I miss this blog. This is super short, and it’s more of a warm up so I apologize for reduced length - this request just made me laugh, because I can totally see Saiki being petty enough for this. Once again I'm sorry it's so short or if it's not what you meant!

TW: uhh gross tastes, Saiki eats dirt but tbh it’s tame

Reader is gender neutral!

WC: 683

Italics represents Saiki speaking telepatically!

Saiki and S/O love finding the worst tastes to torture the others.

—————————————————–

This was hell.

You don’t quite remember how this started, but it didn’t matter as the taste of dirt filled your mouth once more. You would think you’d be used to it by now - with your soulmate being a mischievous psychic, but, alas, it seemed like your poor taste buds would never adjust. You held back a cough, shooting a glare to your right where your eyes met with empty magenta ones hiding behind green glasses and a small smile dancing on his lips. Of course, he couldn’t taste it, and you had to suffer alone. 

“If you’re not careful I’ll begin to associate math with the taste of dirt, you know. As if it isn’t bad enough,” you whispered, transferring your glare down to the worksheet in front of you.

It was cold today. Final exams were coming up, and you needed to focus, being on the verge of failing and all. A cozy picnic table underneath a bare tree seemed like the best place to focus for the duration of your lunch break until you noticed the pink hair and antennae following behind you. Being around him outside was always dangerous. Saiki loves you, he really does and you know it, but he always seemed set on forcing you to taste the most disgusting thing he can think of. 

It became like a little ritual every time you saw each other, trying to get the other to scrunch up their face in disgust as much as possible. Most couples would eat sweet candies or fresh fruit as an act to demonstrate their love for the other - you and Saiki on the other hand: anything from dish soap to spoiled milk. Nothing was off the table, as long as it wouldn’t put you in any danger. Saiki, on the other hand, can eat just about anything.

You reached a hand into your bag sitting beside you, determined to get your revenge and taking great pleasure in the fearful expression that overtook Saiki’s face. He could read your mind. A small bottle of hot sauce was inside, and you knew Saiki couldn’t handle the heat. Swiftly, you drank it, thankful you weren’t the one that had to face the consequences of your actions. Saiki’s face rarely betrayed him, but the red on his cheeks from the heat of the hot sauce always brought joy. 

“You’re lucky it’s just hot sauce. I could always go a step further, you know,” you teased. “You wouldn’t dare,” quickly shot through your head. Turning your head, mustering a serious face, you replied, “Oh, but I would.” He knew you wouldn’t. Now smiling, you focused your attention back on the math equations in front of you; they no longer seemed so bad.

It was dark now, and you finally made your way home to the safety of your bed. Your eyes blink open slowly as an unbearable taste overtakes your senses - what on earth was he eating? You reach for your phone to call him and find out, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing it got to you.

Your resolve broke after fifteen minutes of torture. You brought your phone to your ear and demanded he stops, threatening to find something far worse to lick if he doesn’t. When the taste doesn’t fade, you reach into your nightstand door and pull out a certain pack of jelly beans. You never quite understood this challenge; there was no reason to try them unless you hate your soulmate. They were perfect for an occasion such as this, though. You poured a handful into your mouth without much thought, taking your time to chew them slowly and with far more thought. 

Once you heard coughing over the phone, you finally decided he had enough and stopped eating any more jelly beans. 

"Goodnight," you heard from your phone. "Night," you replied, but neither of you hung up.

[lollipencil]

Orange Moon

Yes, I am well aware the title sucks. But, it’s been in my drafts for so long now, and it feels like a nice little treat for Halloween, so here you go.

Enjoy and be gentle. ---

Another night, another mission. Marc sighed silently into the icy air. This time, the old bird had been irritatingly vague. “A traveller has gotten separated from their guardians. Find them and bring them back here,” were all he said on the matter. Outside of insisting on both Marc specifically doing it, and not being in the suit. “Well,” Steven stated as Marc glanced irritably down the tenth alleyway to find nothing, “At least it’s not murder.”

Mercifully, it was down the eleventh alleyway that Marc saw something...out of the ordinary. At first, Marc had almost dismissed it, carried on walking. Then it registered.

What looked like an smooth translusent orange beanbag was sitting there. Mushed up where the alleyway was too small for it. And arguably the weirdest thing any of them had ever seen. Weirder still was the smell that followed it. Later on, none of them could agree on what it smelt like. Jake would say it smelt like the inside of Gina’s, Marc would say the dishes served at his wedding, while Steven was reminded of that delectable but expensive vegan place he’d gone to once as a treat. “What is that?” Steven calmly asked with just a hint of hysteria. “Think that’s the traveller?” Jake piped up. “Either way, it can’t stay here,” Marc muttered before clearing his throat loudly.

The thing twitched. A quizacal gurgle was their only reply. “Maybe I should do this,” Jake slowly offered, vague memories of a very specific horror movie bouncing between them as the dome became free-flowing. A high-pitched coo was their only warning before the orange mass was upon them.

Wrapping around them instantly, the slimy mass nuzzled Marc’s face even as the force of its leap knocked them over. Mortal terror and protectiveness surged for just a moment. Before it hit.

Every exposed inch of skin, from their bare hands to Marc’s still being nuzzled face, tingled pleasantly. And with the tingling came delight. A genuine smile flowed effortlessly onto Marc’s face. “Hello to you too,” he chuckled into the chirping mass, cuddling it back. “What is it doing?” Jake questioned as wave after wave of increasing happiness washed over their brain. “Oh good,” Khonshu appeared at the alley’s entrance, “You’ve found them.” “I feel funny,” Marc admitted as Jake tried to shake off the delight flooding through the body’s veins. “Yes, it does that,” Khonshu chuckled slightly to himself, “either way, you all would benefit from privacy, I believe.”

Marc’s eyes lit up as Steven began to hum happily and Jake finally let the joy wash over him. “Yeah,” he got up off the pavement, the creature flowing back to allow them up, “let’s head home.”

---

Layla was having a long night. Some top secret organisation flags her down mid-flight like a taxi and asked her to help them find some creature that had been lost during a transfer from one of their facilities. For several hours, they searched from the sky and ground. Nothing.

So, after a text from Marc saying that they were home, Layla and an agent went to the flat to ask him to help. Opening the door, however, had them both stop dead in their tracks.

There he was, laying on a see-through orange bean bag, wearing the most joyful expression she’d ever seen on him. The moment he noticed them, Marc’s delight somehow grew even more. “Layla!” he cried out with enough enthusiasm to rival Taweret. Then the bean bag moved. “Aww,” the agent suddenly cooed before Layla could say anything, “999′s made a new friend.” “This is 999?” Layla asked, refusing to take her eyes of the slime as it crawled towards them.

The agent smiled and unhesitantly began to pet 999′s surface: “Thank you so much for your assistance this evening.” “Ok,” Layla slowly said before waving a hand towards Marc as he staggered her way with a massive smile firmly in place, “But what about my husband?” “Oh, he’s fine!” the agent smiled genuinely, “999 causes euphoria on contact, which increases with time of continuous contact. Been with your new buddy for a while, huh?” 999 cooed and bounced with delight.

As Layla blinked at them, Marc’s arms wrapped around her in a big, warm hug. He nuzzled into her neck and sighed happily. “You three ok?” Layla muttered his way. “Yeah,” Marc said into her shoulder, “We, we feel really good. Haven’t felt this good since our wedding.” The agent chuckled. “He’ll likely stay like this for a few hours, probably longer. Technically, I should be administering amnestics, but... Just don’t let anyone know about all this.” “Of cource,” Layla nodded, playing with Marc’s hair slightly. “See ya, little buddy,” Marc waved as 999 cooed back as they left with the agent.

As the door closed, Layla carefully maneuvered them both onto the sofa. Marc clearly had no intention of letting go and, honestly, It was nice. Seeing him so content. 

Layla smiled softly and nuzzled into Marc’s shoulder. And, eventually, fell asleep.

[lovesosweeet]

better left unsaid // cth

chapter thirty two

in which orion has leukemia, and calum doesn’t know.

calum hood x fem!oc

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october 7, 2018 los angeles, california orion

After several hours on the phone with Dr. Harris and her team, we successfully have transferred my leukemia chemo plan to a hospital in San Diego — the Barnhart Cancer Center. I am moving back in with my moms officially, but I don’t think anyone is happy about it. They’re happy to have me home, but they’re unhappy about the circumstances.

Nobody is happy with me right now, and I don’t blame them. I’m not happy with myself. I haven’t been able to eat or sleep since I made Calum leave. I’ve managed maybe three hours of sleep in the past five days. I have eaten a single slice of cold and stale cheese pizza, but that’s it. I’m just not hungry.

Today, my moms and Macy are helping me pack up what few things are truly mine from the apartment in LA. Most of the things there are Calum’s, even if I picked them out, he paid for most of them. A few things we split costs on, but it doesn’t feel right for me to take them. I plan on just getting my clothes, makeup, and a handful of mugs that heave sentimental value to me.

We pull into the parking garage at the apartment for what might be the last time I ever do and park right by the doors in the Uhaul van that we rented. Even though we aren’t getting that much stuff, it won’t fit in any of our small sedans or my Mama’s hatchback. Macy is waiting for us in the lobby, chatting with Ron, when we walk in.

“Hi,” I breathe when I see her. It’s the first time I’ve seen her since the shitshow that was in San Diego a few days ago. I had to fill her in over text to ask her to help me move out, and she was just as shocked as everyone else by the news.

Macy doesn’t say anything, she just pulls me into a hug. “How are you doing?” She asks.

I hold back tears while I step back from her. I don’t say anything, knowing I’ll just cry if I start talking about it. “Macy, you remember my moms?” I motion to them, and Macy nods.

“Nice to see you again,” Mom says.

Macy smiles a sad smile. I know we all wish this reunion was under different circumstances.

“Shall we get started?” Mama asks, looking between everyone’s faces.

I nod and walk to the elevator, not bothering to make sure people are following me. I’m sure they are.

The apartment feels eerily empty when we walk in. Duke isn’t here anymore, which makes me sad. I didn’t get to say goodbye to him. The band took him to the hotel that night in San Diego so he could hang out with Michael and Crystal’s dogs, and then I broke up with Calum the next morning. I think he’s joining the band for the rest of the tour.

I head straight for the bedroom, knowing that most of my things that I’m taking with me are in the closet. Without a rhyme or reason, I just start throwing clothes into garbage bags. I also put all of Calum’s things back on his side of the closet. I’ll miss wearing his cozy clothes, but they’re his, so he deserves to have them.

“Will you take these down for me?” I ask whoever followed me into the closet. I motion to the garbage bags I’ve already filled and tied off. Hands reach out and take them away, leaving me alone in the closet to keep throwing my clothes into plastic bags. I’ll have to refold everything when I get back to my moms’.

Within just a few minutes, my side of the closet is bare. Really, it’s two thirds of the closet, since Calum has far less than I do in terms of clothes. I ignore the ache in my chest before I grab the remaining two bags to take with me to the kitchen, where Macy is boxing up my mugs.

“I have the Madrid mug, the vegetable soup one, the one you thrifted with the gold flowers, and all the little crystal espresso cups. Am I missing any?” She asks without looking up from her work. She’s wrapping each of the mugs individually in newspaper, putting far more care into it than I think is necessary. These mugs will only be mine for a few more months, maybe a year, and then they’ll be trash or thrift store donations unless someone in my life decides they want them.

“If you are, it’s fine.”

She nods and gives me a half smile.

“Thanks for helping out, Mace. I appreciate it.”

Macy halts her actions then, and before I know it, she’s hugging me. “You’d be here for me if I needed. I’m just giving you the same love you give to the world.”

I want to make a sarcastic comment about the negativity I put into the world breaking up with Calum, but I bite my tongue.

“Still, thank you.”

She lets me go and then reaches up to push my hair out of my eyes. “Anytime.”

Packing up doesn’t really take much time. I also clean out the fridge of anything that will expire before Calum comes home, and most of it Macy takes down to her parents’ place, but a few things go in the trash. Everyone helps me clean the apartment so that Cal can come home to an apartment free of my messes. I’m sure it will be hard for him to come back to the home we built together, so I just want to make myself as scarce as possible.

I leave most of the framed photos of us, because only one of us will need to look back on memories, and it’s not me. I do take a framed polaroid that we took backstage in Amsterdam two years ago and one of the two of us last Christmas. Backstage in Amsterdam, we were both goofing off. He’s holding me upside down while we both laugh uncontrollably, and Ashton is in the background giving a thumbs up. The one from last Christmas is at his grandparents’ house in Australia. We’re both wearing plain white button ups, which was unintentional but we decided it was cute and both wore them, mine with a mini skirt underneath and his with a pair of black jeans. We’re sitting on the floor in front of the Christmas tree with the lights behind us, huge smiles on our faces and our cheeks red from a few too many beers. Mali took it.

I put the frames in my purse and hope that none of the other people here with me saw me tearing up at them.

“Macy, would you like to join us for a quick lunch? We were thinking of going to the bagel place nearby.” My moms are helping tie up the rest of the garbage and recycling, placing it outside of the door for the trash valet service when they come by later today.

“Oh, sure, that would be nice.”

We load the rest of my things into the van and then move it to a visitor’s space before we walk down to Rosie’s. As always, there’s a line. I don’t plan on eating anything, but I don’t mind waiting with my moms and Macy. I think I’ll get a coffee while we’re here since I’m so tired, even though I’m sure it will make me nauseous to drink caffeine on an empty stomach. I deserve it — both the caffeine and the sickness.

While we’re waiting in line, Macy and my moms get to know each other a little better. They even offer to host Macy for family dinners whenever she’d like once she’s back at UCSD next year so she can eat a home-cooked meal instead of shitty dining hall food. I try not to think about how they’ll essentially be replacing me with her.

“Orion?” An unfamiliar voice says, and I perk up from being zoned out to find whoever spoke to me in this line.

My eyes meet blue ones, still unfamiliar.

“Uh, hi? Do I know you?”

“No, sorry to bother you,” the girl says. “But, did you and Cal break up?”

I’m stunned by the question, so stunned I can’t even speak.

“What the hell?” Macy says, stepping halfway in front of me to be between me and the girl. “You’d never ask that shit to someone you actually know, so why do you feel like you can ask someone that just because one of the involved parties is famous? She’s a fucking person, not a character in some fantasy storyline.”

“Macy, it’s fine,” I tell her, placing my hand on her shoulder. She’s fuming. I look at the girl, who’s practically shaking with embarrassment, as several other people in line are now watching us. “Yeah, we did.”

I knew people would be speculating instantly. Between the canceled shows, photos of both of us crying at beaches, and me unfollowing Calum on Instagram, as well as removing him as a follower on my own page, the breakup would be evident to anyone who was looking for signs of it. I didn’t imagine getting approached on the street about it, but I’d seen the Tweets and videos talking about it, rehashing all the painfully public facts.

The girl nods. “Okay, thank you. Have a good day.”

What the fuck? Thank you?

“God, I hate people sometimes,” Macy fumes. She’s staring daggers at the girl’s back as she walks away. “That shit’s about to be all over Twitter.”

I agree with her, but I just quietly reply. “It already is.”

—

@5SOSLuver: A fan confirmed with Orion in LA today. #Orilum is over!

@Fan1: Replying to @5SOSLuver: omg fuck yes @Fan2: Replying to @5SOSLuver: STOP WHO THE HELL JUST WALKS UP TO SOMEONE AND ASKS IF THEY BROKE UP WITH THEIR BF. I feel bad for Orion. That’s such an invasion of privacy and so disrespectful. @Fan3: Replying to @5SOSLuver: nooo 💔 i actually loved them together. hope they’re both doing okay. @Fan4: Replying to @Fan3: me too. someone said they’d seen orion on an oncology ward at ucla hospital. wonder what that means???

@5SOSUpdates: #Orilum is over y’all! Praise the LORD our boy is free!

@MacyLacy123: Replying to @5SOSUpdates: orion and calum loved each other very much. he is not “free.” they are both hurting and you’re being very disrespectful toward two very wonderful humans. @5SOSUpdates: Replying to @MacyLacy123: omg get off her dick. she’s a bitch and an attention seeker. go find someone else to bitch at with your dumb opinions. @MacyLacy123: Replying to @5SOSUpdates: find someone worthy of your hate. orion isn’t that person. i hope karma bites you in the ass. also, cal’s not gonna fuck you just bc you hate his ex. just FYI. @Calum5SOS: Replying to @MacyLacy123: @5SOSUpdates she’s right, about all of it. orion is a wonderful person. please respect our privacy and while you’re at it, respect strangers on the internet, too.

@Calum5SOS: Hating doesn’t get you anywhere. Kindly respect our privacy. Thanks.

- Cal

@Fan4: Replying to @Calum5SOS: we love you Cal!! anyone hating is just jealous. take all the time you need to heal @Fan5: Replying to @Calum5SOS: glad you finally got away from that leech. we love you! @Fan4: Replying to @Fan5: did you even read his tweet? hating doesn’t get you anywhere! @Fan6: Replying to @Calum5SOS: so sorry about your breakup calum. anyone could see how much you two loved each other. sending you love!!! @Fan7: Replying to @Calum5SOS: we love you!!! @Ashton5SOS: Replying to @Calum5SOS: Love you, brother. I’m here for you. @Fan4: Replying to @Ashton5SOS: omg my cashton heart. sobbing. @MacyLacy123: Replying to @Ashton5SOS: cal’s lucky to have a friend like you. here for all of you. ❤️ @Ashton5SOS: Replying to @MacyLacy123: ❤️ The support system is out of this world. Here for you guys too if you need us, got it? @EmeliaBoDeliaSmelia: Replying to @Ashton5SOS: @MacyLacy123 omg y’all got me crying on twitter. love you all sm. we’re in this together. @5SOSUpdates: Replying to @EmeliaBoDeliaSmelia: @Ashton5SOS @MacyLacy123 who tf are y’all @Fan3: Replying to @5SOSUpdates: bruh clearly they know orion and calum. y’all fr don’t know anything about them and their breakup. further proof to stOP HATING oml

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a/n: i'm sorry the tweet part formatting got v messed up i hope it still reads somewhat okay....

[lieutenantabrudas]

Skewed Results

For @flashfictionfridayofficial's prompt: "Reporting the Scoop"

Mostly inspired by that one line Allers has in ME3 about why human women are preferred reporters by all the species. Ma'am you are a human woman working for a human news station on a human warship in a very human-biased game. I do not believe you. So have Teia, an award-winning turian journalist, with the counterargument, feat. her husband who's also famous for something I guess.

CW for brief mentions of violence, nothing graphic

The problem with living on the Citadel was that too many doors slid open automatically. There was nothing satisfying about stomping through a door that was already opening for you when you got to it. Teia's hands itched, longing for something solid she could bang.

She settled for slamming her bag down on the little table by the front door. The crashes of all the little baubles she’d hung from it cascading against the synth-wood at least did something for her.

From the narrow entryway hall, she just barely caught a flash of movement on the couch ahead. “Teia?”

She was already halfway there by the time Ierian dragged himself free from his favorite spot to stick his head over the back. Teal eyes looked up at her, wide and gentle and so very politely asking her to share whatever had upset her, and the rage boiling at the back of her throat tempered just a few degrees. Ierian was good at that. She paused in her tromping, then took a deep breath and continued a little bit slower, a little bit calmer. “Don’t mind me,” she puffed, clenching and unclenching her hands and pretending she wasn’t imagining how they might feel doing that around a delicate, unprotected throat. “Just – had a little disagreement at work, I’m fine.”

One brow plate went up, and Ierian turned and sat up as she rounded the end of the couch. “A little disagreement,” he echoed, flicking out one mandible to complete the skeptic look. “About what, whether or not obligate carnivores can go fully vegan? I told you last time, darling, you can’t reason with stupid or with xenophobes, and especially not with stupid xenophobes. Turians don’t have molars, and we need gizzard stones for eating vegetables, it’s as simple as that. Someone who can’t understand that shouldn’t be working in interspecies media.”

Another deep breath. The thick carpeting under her toe-claws and the gentle subvocals caressing her cowl as her husband spoke helped. “No, Veyetha moved back to Niacal, she’s not the problem,” she sighed, accepting Ierian’s offered hand and letting him tug her down to sit with him. “We have a new hire, Jocelyne Kinsley, and she’s so… y’know?”

“I don’t, actually.” Ierian scootched back into his corner, pulling Teia along with him, and reached over to pick up whatever drink he’d poured himself when he got home from work. “You should explain, in more words.”

Teia puffed out a noisy exhale, letting her head thump against his cowl. “Oh, she’s transferring in from Alliance NewsNet, so she’s got some unconscious bias to work out, which is fine, we all have them, it’s a process, but…”

Ierian took a sip of his drink. “But some people are louder about them than others.”

“Exactly.” Teia huffed and rolled to put her back to his chest and pull her knees up to her keel. “Apparently, there’s this stupid study she was throwing around about how like, human women make the most appealing reporters, because…” She pulled her mandibles in, trying to recall the bragging that had started the argument. “Visual similarities to asari, voice pitch to salarians… stupid things like that. Little shit.”

“Mm. What was the reasoning for turians, out of curiosity?”

“Oh, turian viewers were found to have no preference.” She flared her nasal plates and mandibles in a scowl. “We’ll watch anything as long as it’s about death, you know. Because we’re so violent as a species.”

Ierian rumbled thoughtfully, running his claws up and down her arm. “Well, to me, that sounds like heavy bias,” he pointed out. “I assume this new reporter is a human woman herself?”

Teia clicked her mandibles. “Yeah. She was really trying to say she expected a lot more human women on CNN, and she’s like, the start of a ‘new wave in interspecies journalism,’ or whatever. Mikse and I tried to explain that’s anthropocentric, but she just insisted.”

Ierian held out the glass for Teia to have a sip, too. Rum tickled her nasal plates. “Sounds to me like somebody should take a look at this study. Perhaps a somebody who’s an investigative journalist by trade.” He waited for her to take a drink, then took it back and had one himself. “Perhaps an investigative journalist who’s won multiple prestigious awards for her work, and is considered one of the galaxy’s most trusted voices on the nightly news.”

Teia paused, tapping her mandibles against her face, then snorted and shook her head. “She’ll say I’m just mad about things changing, or something rude like that,” she grumbled, even as she pulled up her omni-tool and opened a new search window.

“Then you can take her to HR over discriminatory viewpoints.” Ierian leaned back to watch her type. “I would think a prestigious network like Citadel NewsNet wouldn’t want someone like that on their payroll, wouldn’t you?”

Teia didn’t respond, focused on the search results. She didn’t even have to dig – ANN had plastered the study over three different specialty channels, with headlines bragging about science proving their reporters were preferred by all other species… “… ‘in a study funded by the Alliance Department for Xenosocial Research,’” she quoted, flicking out one mandible wryly. “Humanity has investigated and found humans are the bestest at everything, always, more after the break.”

Ierian chuckled through his purr, resting his chin on top of her head. “I expect if you read the study itself, their methods are flawed, as well. Somebody should write an editorial about it.”

Teia snorted, clicking into the first article and skimming for a link to the study. “I think you just want me to fight the ANN.”

“The ANN has decided I’m a xenophobe because I think humans should follow the same laws as the rest of the galaxy, Teia, I would love you to fight them.” He pressed a quick kiss to the top of her head, then prodded at her shoulder. "I'll make you your thinking tea. Have fun, dear."